Skip to main content

Full text of "Brewster's Millions"

See other formats


This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project 

to make the world's books discoverable online. 

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject 

to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books 

are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover. 

Marks, notations and other maiginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the 

publisher to a library and finally to you. 

Usage guidelines 

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the 
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing tliis resource, we liave taken steps to 
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying. 
We also ask that you: 

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for 
personal, non-commercial purposes. 

+ Refrain fivm automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine 
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the 
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help. 

+ Maintain attributionTht GoogXt "watermark" you see on each file is essential for in forming people about this project and helping them find 
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it. 

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just 
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other 
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of 
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner 
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liabili^ can be quite severe. 

About Google Book Search 

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers 
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web 

at |http: //books .google .com/I 


Vtb. J. E. Olatr 

IglMI I IHHHIliliii »l |1 

; n c 'i 

Brewster's Millions 


) > 


Edward Abeles a 


I / 





» J * " • 

J <» • 




T a 8TOKB it ctmBAm 

ElOiirS RBflUtTBD 

• • 

^J^ ^'^4 











A Bartnday Dkmer . 

Shades of Aladdfai . 

Mrs. and Miss Gray . 

A Second WiU 

The Message from Jones 

Monty Cristo . 

A Lesson In Tact 

The Forelock of Time . 

Love and a Prise-fight 

The Napoleon of Finance 

Coals of Fire 

Christmas Despair . 

A Friend in Need 

Mrs. DeMille Entertains 

The Cut Direct . 

In the Sunny South 

The New Tenderfoot 

The Prodigal at Sea . 

One Hero and Another 

Le Roi S' Amuse . 

Fairyland . 

Prince and Peasants 

An Offer of Marriage 

The Sheik's Strategy . 

The Rescue of Peggy 

The Mutiny . 

A Fair Traitor . 

A Catastrophe 

The Prodigal's Return ' 

The PromiEe of Thrift . 

How the Million Disappeared 

The Night Before . 

The Flight of Jones . 

The Last Word 
















Brewster's Millions 



•The Little Sons of the Rich" were gath- 
ered about the long table in PettiBgill's 
studio. There were nine of them present, 
besides Brewster. They were all young, more 
or less enterprising, hopeful, and reasonably 
sure of better things to come. Most of them 
bore names that meant something in the storj^ 
of New York. Indeed one of them had 
remarked, "A man is known by the street 
that's named after him," and as he was a new 
member, they called him "Subway." 

The most popular man in the company was 
young "Monty" Brewster. He was tall and 
straight and smooth-shaven. People called 
him "clean-looking." Older women were 
interested in him because his father add 
mother had made a romantic runaway match^ 
which was the talk of the town in the seven- 
ties» and had never been forgiven. Worldly 


women were interested in him because he was 
the only grandson of Edwin Peter Brewster, 
who was many times a millionaire, and Monty 
was fairly certain to be his heir — barring an 
absent-minded gift to charity. Younger 
women were interested for a much more obvi- 
ous and simple reason: they liked him. Mea 
also took to Monty because he was a good 
sportsman, a man aunong men« because he had 
a decent respect for himself and no great 
aversion to work. 

His father and mother had both died whiU 
he was still a child, and, as if to make up for 
his long relentlessness, the grandfather had 
taken the boy to his own house and had cared 
for him with what he called affection. After 
college and some months on the continent^ 
however, Monty had preferred to be inde^ 
pendent. Old Mr. Brewster had found him ^ 
place in the bank, but beyond this and occa- 
sional dinners, Monty asked for and received 
no favors. It was a question of work, and 
hard work, and small pay. He lived on his 
salary because he had to, but he did not resent 
his grandfather's attitude. He was better satis- 
fied to spend his "weakly salary," as he called 
it, in his own way than to earn more by diniag 
seven nights a week with an old man who had 


forgotten he was ever young. It was less 
wearing, he said. 

Among the "Little Sons of the Rich," birth- 
days were always occasions for feasting. The 
table was covered with dishes sent up from the 
French restaurant in the basement. The chairs 
were pushed back, cigarettes were lighted, 
men had their knees crossed. Then PettingilT 
got up. 

''Gentlemen/' he began, "we are here to 
celebrate the twenty-fifth birthday of Mr. 
Montgomery Brewster. I ask you all to join 
me in drinking to his long life and happi^* 

"No heel taps!" some one shouted. "Brew- 
ster! Brewster!" all called at once. 

**Por he's a jolly good fellow, 
For he's a joUy good fellow!" 

The sudden ringing of an electric bell cut oflf 
this flow of sentiment, and so unusual was the 
interruption that the ten members straightened 
up as if jerked into position by a string. 

"The police!" some one suggested. All 
faces were turned toward the door. A waiter 
stood there, uncertain whether to turn the 
knob or push the bolt. 

"Damned nuisance!" said Richard Van 
Winkle "I want to hear Brewster's speech." 



* 'Speech! Speech!" echoed everywhere. 
Men settled into their places. 

**Mr. Montgomery Brewster/' Petting! 11 

Again the bell rang — long and loud. 

"Reinforcements. Til bet there's a patrol in 
the street," remarked Oliver Harrison. 

**If it's only the police, let them in," said 
Pettingill. **I thought it was a creditor." 

The waiter opened the door. 

**Some one to see Mr. Brewster, sir," he 

Is she pretty, waiter?" called McCloud. 
He says he is Ellis, from your grandfather's, 



My compliments to Ellis, and ask him to 
inform my grandfather that it's after banking 
hours. I'll see him in the morning," said Mr. 
Brewster, who had reddened under the jests of 
his companions. 

"Grandpa doesn't want his Monty to stay 
out after dark," chuckled Subway Smith. 

"It was most thoughtful of the old gentle^ 
man to have the man call for you with the 
perambulator," shouted Pettingill above the 
laughter. "Tell him you've already had your 
bottle," added McCloud. 

"Waiter, tell Ellis I'm too busy to be seen/* 


commanded Brewster, and as Ellis went down 
in the elevator a roar followed him. 

"Now, for Brewster's speech! — Brewster!" 

Monty rose. 

"Gentlemen, you seem to have forgotten 
for the moment that I am twenty-five years old 
this day, and that your remarks have been 
childish and wholly unbecoming the dignity of 
my age. That I have arrived at a period of 
discretion is evident from my choice of friends; 
that I am entitled to your respect is evident 
from my grandfather's notorious wealth. You 
have done me the honor to drink my health and 
to reassure me as to the inoffensiveness of 
approaching senility. Now I ask you all to 
rise and drink to 'The Little Sons of the Rich.' 
May the Lord love us!" 

An hour later "Rip" Van Winkle and Sub- 
way Smith were singing "Tell Me, Pretty 
Maiden," to the uncertain accompaniment of 
Pettingill's violin, when the electric bell again 
disturbed the company. 

"For Heaven's sake!" shouted Harrison, 
who had been singing "With All Thy Faults, I 
Love Thee Still," to Pettingill's lay figure. 

"Come home with me, grandson, come home 
with me now," suggested Subway Smith. 

"Tel^ Ellis to go to Halifax," comraanded 


Montgomery, and again Ellis took the elevator 
downward. His usually impassive face now 
wore a look of anxiety, and twice he started 
to return to the top floor, shaking his head 
dubiously. At last he climbed into a hansom 
and reluctantly left the revelers behind. He 
knew it was a birthday celebration, and it was 
only half-past twelve in the morning. 

At three o'clock the elevator made another 
trip to the top floor and Ellis rushed over to 
the unfriendly doorbell. This time there was 
stubborn determination in his face. The sing- 
ing ceased and a roar of laughter followed the 
hush of a moment or two. 

**Come in!" called a hearty voice, and Ellis 
strode firmly into the studio. 

"You are just in time for a ''night-cap,' 
Ellis," cried Harrison, rushing to the foot- 
man's side. Ellis, stolidly facing the young 
man, lifted his hand. 

No, thank you, sir," he said, respectfully. 
'Mr. Montgomery, if you'll excuse me for 
breaking in, I'd like to give you three messages 
I've brought here to-night." 

"You're a faithful old chap," said Subway 
Smith, thickly. "Hanged if I'd do A. D. T. 
work till three A. M. for anybody." 

"I came at ten, Mr. Montgomery, with a 


message from Mr. Brewster, wishing you many 
happy returns of the day, and with a check 
from him for one thousand dollars. Here's 
the check, sir. I'll give my messages in the 
order I received them, sir, if you please. At 
twelve-thirty o'clock, I came with a message 
from Dr. Gower, sir, who had been called 
in " 

''Called in?" gasped Montgomery, turning 

**Yes, sir, Mr. Brewster had a sudden heart 
attack at half-past eleven, sir. The doctor 
sent word by me, sir, that he was at the point 
of death. My last message " 

"Good Lord!" 

"This time I bring a message from Rawles, 
the butler, asking you to come to Mr. Brew- 
ster's house at once — if you can, sir, — I mean, 
if you will, sir," Ellis interjected, apologet- 
ically. Then with his gaze directed steadily 
over the heads of the subdued "Sons" he 
added, impressively: 

"Mr. Brewster is dead, sir/* 



Montgomery Brewster no longer had *'pros<» 
ects." People could not now point him out 
with the remark that some day he would come 
into a million or two. He had "realized," as 
Oliver Harrison would have put it Two days 
after his grandfather's funeral a final will and 
testament was read, and, as was expected, the 
old banker atoned for the hardships Robert 
Brewster and his wife had endured by bequeath- 
ing one million dollars to their son Montgomery. 
It was his without a restriction, without an 
admonition, without an incumbrance. There 
was not a suggestion as to how it should be 
handled by the heir. The business training 
the old man had given him was synonymous 
with conditions not expressed in the will. 
The dead man believed that he had drilled 
into the youth an unmistakable conception of 
what was expected of him in life; if he failed 
in these expectations the misfortune would be 
his alone to bear; a road had been carved out 
for him and behind him stretched a long line 



of guiae-posts whose laconic instructions might 
be ignored but never forgotten. Edwin Peter 
Brewster evidently made his will with the 
sensible conviction that it was necessary for 
him to die before anybody else could possess 
his money, and that, once dead, it would be folly 
for him to worry over the way in which benefici- 
aries might choose to manage their own affairs. 

The house in Fifth Avenue went to a sister, 
together with a million or two, and the residue 
of the estate found kindly disposed relatives 
who were willing to keep it from going to the 
Home for Friendless Fortunes. Old Mr. 
Irewster left his affairs in order. The will 
lominated Jerome Buskirk as executor, and 
he was instructed, in conclusion, to turn over 
to Montgomery Brewster, the day after the 
will was probated, securities to the amount of 
one million dollars, provided for in clause four 
of the instrument. And so it was that on the 
26th of September young Mr. Brewster had an 
unconditional fortune thrust upon him, 
weighted only with the suggestion of cr6pc 
that clung to it. 

Since his grandfather's death he had been 
staying at the gloomy old Brewster house in 
Fifth Avenue, paying but two or three hurried 
visits to the rooms at Mrs. Gray's where he had 


made his home. The gloom of death still 
darkened the Fifth Avenue place, and there 
was a stillness, a gentle stealthiness about 
the house that made him long for more cheer- 
ful companionship. He wondered dimly if a 
fortune always carried the suggestion of tube- 
roses. The richness and strangeness of it 
all hung about him unpleasantly. He had 
had no extravagant affection for the grim 
old dictator who was dead, yet his grand- 
father was a man and had commanded his 
respect. It seemed brutal to leave him out of 
the reckoning — to dance on the grave of the 
mentor who had treated him well. The atti- 
tude of the friends who clapped him on the 
back, of the newspapers which congratulated 
him, of the crowd that expected him to rejoice, 
repelled him. It seemed a tragic comedy, 
haunted by a severe dead face. He was 
haunted, too, by memories, and by a sharp 
regret for his own foolish thoughtlessness. 
Even the fortune itself weighed upon him at 
moments with a half-defined melancholy. 

Yet the situation was not without its com- 
pensations. For several days when Ellis 
called him at seven, he would answer him 
and thank fortune that he was not required 
at the bank that morning. The luxury of 


another hour of sleep seemed the greatest 
perquisite of wealth. His morning mail 
amused him at first, for since the newspa- 
pers had published his prosperity to the world 
he was deluged with letters. Requests for 
public or private charity were abundant, but 
most of his correspondents were generous 
and thought only of his own good. For three 
days he was in a hopeless state of bewilder- 
ment. He was visited by reporters, photogra- 
phers, and ingenious strangers who benevo- 
lently offered to invest his money in enter- 
prises with certified futures. When he was not 
engaged in declining a gold mine in Colorado, 
worth five million dollars, marked down to four 
hundred and fifty, he was avoiding a guileless 
inventor who offered to sacrifice the secrets 
of a marvelous device for three hundred 
dollars, or denying the report that he had 
been tendered the presidency of the First 
National Bank. 

Oliver Harrison stirred him out early one 
morning and, while the sleepy millionaire was 
rubbing his eyes and still dodging the bomb- 
shell that a dream anarchist had hurled from 
the pinnacle of a bedpost, urged him in 
excited, confidential tones to take time by the 
forelock and prepare for possible breach of 



promise suits. Brewster sat on the edge of th% 
bed and listened to diabolical stories of hoii 
conscienceless females had fleeced innocent 
and even godly men of wealth. From the 
bathroom, between splashes, he retained Har- 
rison by the year, month, day and hour, to 
stand between him and blackmail. 

The directors of the bank met and adopted 
resolutions lamenting the death of their late 
president, passed the leadership on to the first 
vice-president and speedily adjourned. The 
question of admitting Monty to the directory 
was brought up and discussed, but it was left 
for Time to settle. 

One of the directors was Col. Prentiss Drew, 
"the railroad magnate" of the newspapers. 
He had shown a fondness for young Mr. Brew- 
ster, and Monty had been a frequent visitor at 
his house. Colonel Drew called him '*my dear 
boy," and Monty called him "a bully old 
chap," though not in his presence. But the 
existence of Miss Barbara Drew may have had 
something to do with the feeling between the 
two men. 

As he left the directors* room, on the after* 
noon of the meeting, Colonel Drew came up to 
Monty who had notified the ofEceri of the 
bank that he was leaving. 


"Ah, my dear boy," said the Colonel, shak- 
ing the young man's hand warmly, "now you 
have a chance to show what you can do. You 
have a fortune and, with judgment, you ought 
to be able to triple it. If I can help you in any 
way, come and see me." 

Monty thanked him. 

•'You'll be bored to death by the raft of 
people who have ways to spend your money,** 
continued the Colonel. "Don't listen to any 
of them. Take your time. You'll have a new 
chance to make money every day of your life, 
so go slowly. I'd have been rich years and 
years ago if I'd had sense enough to run away 
from promoters. They'll all try to get a whack 
at your money. Keep your eye open, Monty. 
The rich young man is always a tempting 
morsel." After a moment's reflection, he 
added, "Won't you come out and dine with us 
to-morrow night?" 



Mrs. Gray lived in Fortieth Street. For 
years Montgomery Brewster had regarded her 
quiet, old-fashioned home as his own. The 
house had once been her grandfather's, and it 
was one of the pioneers in that part of town. 
It was there she was born; in its quaint old 
parlor she was married; and all her girlhood* 
her brief wedded life, and her widowhood were 
connected with it, Mrs. Gray and Montgom- 
ery's mother had been schoolmates and play- 
mates, and their friendship endured. When 
old Edwin Peter Brewster looked about for a 
place to house his orphaned grandson, Mrs. 
Gray begged him to let her care for the little 
fellow. He was three years older than her 
Margaret, and the children grew up as 
brother and sister. Mr. Brewster was gener* 
ous in providing for the boy. While he was 
away at college, spending money in a manner 
that caused the old gentleman to marvel at his 
own liberality, Mrs. Gray was well paid for the 
unused but well-kept apartments, and there 
never was a murmur of complaint from Edwin 



Tbter Brewster. He was hard, but he was not 


It had been something of a struggle for Mrs. 
Gray to make both ends meet. The property 
in Fortieth Street was her only possession. 
But little money had come to her at her hus- 
band's death, and an unfortunate speculation 
of hU had swept away all that had fallen to her 
from her father, the late Judge Merriweather. 
For years she kept the old home unencumbered, 
teaching French and English until Margaret 
was well into her teens. The girl was sent to 
one of the good old boarding-schools on the 
Hudson and came out well prepared to help 
her mother in the battle to keep the wolf down 
and appearances up. Margaret was rich in 
friendships; and pride alone stood between 
her and the advantages they offered. Good- 
looking, bright, and cheerful, she knew no nat- 
ural privations. With a heart as light and joy- 
ous as a May morning, she faced adversity as 
though it were a pleasure, and no one would 
have suspected that even for a moment her 
courage wavered. 

Now that Brewster had come into his splen- 
did fortune he could conceive no greater 
delight than to share it with them. To walk 
into the little drawing-room and serenely lay 


large sums before them as their own seemed 
such a natural proceeding that he refused 
to see an obstacle. But he knew it was 
there; the proffer of such a gift to Mrs. 
Gray would mean a wound to the pride 
inherited from haughty generations of men 
sufficieat unto themselves. There was a smalt 
but troublesome mortgage on the house, a 
matter of two or three thousand dollars, and 
Brewster tried to evolve a plan by which he 
could assume the burden without giving deep 
and lasting offense. A hundred wild designs 
had come to him, but they were quickly rele- 
gated to the growing heap of subterfuges and 
pretexts condemned by his tenderness for the 
pride of these two women who meant so much 
to him. 

Leaving the bank, he hastened, by electric 
car, to Fortieth Street and Broadway, and then 
walked eagerly off into the street of the 
numeral. He had not yet come to the point 
where he felt like scorning the cars, even 
though a roll of banknotes was tucked snugly 
away in a pocket that seemed to swell with 
sudden affluence. Old Hendrick, faithful serv- 
itor through two generations, was sweeping 
the autumn leaves from the sidewalk when 
Montgomery came up to the house. 


"Hello, Hendrick/* was the young man's 
cheery greeting. "Nice lot o£ leav«s you have 

"So?" ebbed from Hendrick, who did not 
even so much as look up from his work. Hen- 
drick was a human clam. 

"Mrsi Gray in?" 

A grunt that signified yes. 

"You're as loquacious as ever, Hendrick.'* 

A mere nod. 

Brewster let himself in with his own latch 
key, threw his hat on a chgir and unceremoni- 
ously bolted into the library. Margaret was 
seated near a window, a hook in her lap. The 
first evidence of unbiased friendship he had 
seen in days shone in her smile. She took 
his hand and said simply, "We are glad to 
welcome the prodigal to his home again." 

"I remind myself more of the fatted calf." 

Her first self-consciousness had gone. 

"I thought of that, but I didn't dare say it," 
ihe laughed. "One must be respectful to rich 

"Hang your rict relatives, Peggy; if I 
thought that this money would make any dif- 
ference I would give it up this minute." 

"Nonsense, Monty," she said. "How could 
*^ make a difference? But you must admit it 


is rather startling. The friend of our youth 
leaves his hymble dwelling Saturday night with 
his salary drawn for two treeks ahead. He 
returns the following Thursday a dazzling 
millionaire. " 

"I'm glad I've begun to dazzle, anjrway. I 
thought it might be hard to'look the part." 

"Well, I can't see that you are much 
changed. " There was a suggestion of a quaver 
in her voice, and the shadows did not prevent 
him from seeing the quick mist that flitted 
across her deep eyes. 

"After all, it's easy work being a million- 
aire," he explained, "when you've always had 
million-dollar inclinations." 

"And fifty-cent possibilities," she added. 

"Really though, I'll never get as much joy 
out of my abundant riches as I did Dut of 
financial embarrassments." 

"But think how fine it is, Monty, not ever 
to wonder where your winter's overcoat is to 
come from and how long the coal will last, 
and all that." 

"Oh, I never wondered about my overcoats; 
the tailor did the wondering. But I wish I 
could go on living here just as before. I'd a 
heap rather live here than at that gloomy place 
on the avenue." 


That sounded like the thingrs yoo used to 
say when we played in the garret. You'd a 
heap sooner do this than that — don't you 

* 'That's just why I'd rather live here, Peggy. 
Last night I fell to thinking of that old garret, 
and hanged if something didn't come up and 
stick in my throat so tight that I wanted to 
cry. How long has it been since we played up 
there? YeS| and how long has it been since 
I read 'Oliver Optic' to you, lying there in tho 
garret window while you sat with your back 
against the wall, your blue eyes as big as 

"Oh, dear me, Monty, it was ages ago— 
twelve or thirteen years, at least" she cried, 
a soft light in her eyes, 

"I'm going up there this afternoon to see 
what the place is like," he said eagerly **And» 
Peggy, you must come too. Maybe I can 
find one of those Optic books, and we'll be 
young again " 

•*Just for old time's sake," she said impul- 
sively "You'll stay for luncheon, too." 

"I'll have to be at the— no, I won't, either. 
Do you know, I was thinking I had to be at the 
bank at twelve-thirty to let Mr. Perkins go out 
for something to eat? The millionaire habit 


isn't so firmly fixed as ! supposed." After a 
moment's pause, in which his growing serious- 
ness changed the atmosphere, he went on, 
haltingly, uncertain of his position: **The 
nicest thing about having all this money is that 
— that — we won't have to deny ourselves any- 
thing after this." It did not sound very tact- 
ful, now that it was out, and he was compelled 
to scrutinize rather intently a familiar portrait 
in order to maintain an air of careless assur- 
ance. She did not respond to this venture, but 
he felt that she was looking directly into his 
sorely-tried brain. "We'll do any amount of 
decorating about the house and — and you know 
that furnace has been giving us a lot of trouble 
for two or three years — " he was pouring out 
ruthlessly, when her hand fell gently on his own 
and she stood straight and tall before him, an 
aJd look in her eyes. 

"Don't — please don't go on, Monty," she 

;aid very gently but without wavering. "I 

know what you mean. You are good and very 

thoughtful, Monty, but you really must not." 

"Why, what's mine is yours — " he began 

"I know you are generous, Monty, and I 

know you have a heart. You want us to — to 

take some of your money, 'V-it was not easy to 

^ay it, and as for Monty, he could only look at 


the floor. "We cannot, Monty, dear, — yow 
must never speak of it again. Mamma and 
I had a feeling that you would do it. But 
don't you see, — even from you it is an offer of 
help, and it hurts." 

**Don't talk like that, Peggy," he implored. 

"It would break her heart if you offered to 
give her money in tftat way. She'd hate it, 
Monty. It is foolish perhaps, but you know 
we can't take your money." 

**I thought you— that you— oh, this knocks 
all the joy out of it," he burst out desperately. 

"Dear Monty!" 

"Let's talk it over, Peggy; you don't under- 
stand — " he began, dashing at what he thought 
would be a break in her resolve. 

"Don't!" she commanded, and in her blue 
eyes was the hot flash he had felt once or twice 

He rose and walked across the floor, back 
and forth again, and then stood before her, a 
smile on his lips — a rather pitiful smile, but 
still a smile. There were tears in her eyes 
as she looked at him. 

"It's a confounded puritanical prejudice, 
Peggy," he said in futile protest, "and you 
know it." 

'You have not seen the letters that cane 


for you this morning. They're on the table 
over there," she replied, ignoring him. 

He found the letters and resumed his seat in 
the window, glancing half-heartedly over the 
contents of the envelopes. The last was from 
Grant & Ripley, attorneys, and even from his 
abstraction it brought a surprised "By Jove!" 
He read it aloud to Margaret. 

September 3a 


New York. 
Dear Sir: — ^We are in receipt of a communication from 
Mr. Swearengen Jones of Montana, conveying the sad 
intelligence that your uncle, James T. Sedgwick, died on 

the 24tii inst. at M Hospital in Portland, after a brief 

illness. Mr. Jones by this time has qualified in Montana 
as the executor of your uncle's will and has retained us 
as his eastern representatives. He incloses a copy of the 
will, in which you are named as sole heir, with conditions 
attending. Will you call at our office this afternoon, if it 
is convenient? It is important that you know the con- 
tents of the instrument at once. 

Respectfully yours. 

Grant & Ripley. 

For a momcriit there was only amazement in 
the air. Then a faint bewildered smile appeared 
in Monty's face, and reflected itself in the 

"Who is your Uncle James?'' she asked. 
'I've never beard of him." 



"Tou mu6t go to Grant & Ripley's at ooce, 
of course. ' 

•'Hare ypu forgotten, Peggy/' he replied, 
with a hint of vexation in his voice, "that 
we are to read 'Oliver Optic' this afternoon f' 



*'You are both fortunate and unfortunate, 
Mr. Brewster," said Mr. Grant, after the 
young man had dropped into a chair in the office 
of Grant & Ripley the next day. Montgomery 
wore a slightly bored expression, and it was 
evident that he took little interest in the will 
of James T. Sedgwick. From far back in the 
recesses of memory he now recalled this long- 
lost brother of his mother. As a very small 
child he had seen his Uncle James upon the 
few occasions which brought him to the home 
of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Brewster. But the 
young man had dined at the Drews the night 
before and Barbara had had more charm for 
him than usual. It was of her that he was 
thinking when he walked into the office of 
Swearengen Jones's lawyers. 

**The truth is, Mr. Grant, I'd completely 
forgotten the existence of an uncle," he 

**It is not surprising," said Mr. Grant, 



genially. "Everyone who knew him in New 
York nineteen or twenty years ago believed 
him to be dead. He left the city when you 
were a very small lad, going to Australia, I 
think. He was off to seek his fortune, and he 
needed it pretty badly when he started out 
This letter from Mr. Jones comes like a mes« 
sage from the dead. Were it not that we have 
known Mr. Jones for a long time, handling 
affairs of considerable importance for him, I 
should feel inclined to doiibt the whole story. 
It seems that your uncle turned up in Montana 
about fifteen years ago and there formed a 
stanch friendship with old Swearengen Jones, 
one of the richest men in the far West. Sedg- 
wick*s will was signed on the day of his death, 
September 24th, and it was quite natural that 
Mr. Jones should be named as his executor. 
That is how we became interested in the 
matter, Mr. Brewster.'* 

**I see,'* said Montgomery, somewhat puz- 
zled. "But why do you say that I am both 
fortunate and unfortunate?'' 

"The situation is so remarkable that you'll 
consider that a mild way of putting it when 
you've heard everything. I think you were 
told, in our note of yesterday, that you are the 
sole heir. Well« it may luri^ite you to learii 


that James Sedgwick died possessed of an 
estate valued at almost seven million dollars/' 

Montgomery Brewster sat like one petrified^ 
staring blankly at the old lawyer, who could 
say startling things in a level voice. 

"He owned gold mines and ranches in the 
Northwest and there is no question as to their 
value. Mr. Jones, in his letter to us, briefly 
outlines the history of James Sedgwick from 
the time he landed in Montana. He reached 
there in 1885 from Australia, and he was worth 
thirty or forty thousand dollars at the time. 
Within five years he was the owner of a huge 
ranch, and scarcely had another five years 
passed before he was part-owner of three rich 
gold mines. Possessions accumulated rapidly; 
everything he touched turned to gold. He 
was shrewd, careful, and thrifty, and his money 
was handled with all the skill of a Wall Street 
financier. At the time of his death, in Port- 
land, he did not owe a dollar in the world. 
His property is absolutely unencumbered — 
safe and sound as a government bond. It's 
rather overwhelming, isn't it?" the lawyer 
concluded* taking note of Brewster's expres- 

"And be — he left everything to me?* 

••With a proviso." 



"I have a copy of the will. Mr. Ripley and 
I are the only persons in New York who at 
present know its contents. You, I am sure, 
after hearing it« will not divulge them without 
the most careful deliberation." 

Mr. Grant drew the document from a pigeon- 
hole in his desk, adjusted his glasses and pre- 
pared to read. Then, as though struck by a 
sudden thought, he laid the paper down and 
turned once more to Brewster. 

"It seems that Sedgwick never married. 
Your mother was his sister and his only known 
relative of close connection. He was a man 
of most peculiar temperament, but in full 
possession of all mental faculties. You may 
find this will to be a strange document, but I 
think Mr. Jones, the executor, explains any 
mystery that may be suggested by its terms. 
While Sedgwick's whereabouts were unknown 
to his old friends in New York, it seems that 
he was fully posted on all that was going on 
here. He knew that you were the only child 
of youl mother and therefore his only nephew. 
He sets forth the dates of your mother's mar- 
riage, of your birth, of the death of Robert 
Brewster and of Mrs. Brewster. He also was 
aware of the fact that old Edwin Peter Brew- 



ster intended to bequeath a large fortune to 

you — ^and thereby hangs a tale. Sedgwick was 
proud. When he li^ed in New York, he was 
regarded as the kind of man who never forgave 
the person who touched roughly upon his pride. 
You know, of course, that your father married 
Miss Sedgwick in the face of the moet bitter 
opposition on the part of Edwin Brewster. 
The latter refused to recognize ber as his 
daughter, practically disowned his son, and 
heaped the harshest kind of calumny upon the 
Sedgwicks. It was commonly believed about 
town that Jim Sedgwick left the country three 
or four years after this marriage for the sole 
reason that he and Edwin Brewster could not 
live in the same place. So deep was his hatred 
of the old man that he fled to escape killing 
him. It was known that upon one occasion he 
visited the office of his sister's enemy for the 
purpose of slaying him, but something pre- 
vented. He carried that hatred to the grave, 
as you will see." 

Montgomery Brewster was trying to gather 
himself together from within the fog which 
made himself and the world unreal. 

"I believe I'd like to have you read this 
extraor — the will, Mr. Grant," he said, with an 
efiert to hold his nerves in leash. 



Mr. Grant cleared his throat and began in 
his still voice. Once he looked up to find his 
listener eager, and again to find him grown 
indifferent. He wondered dimly if this were 
a pose. 

In brief, the last will of James T. Sedgwick 
bec^ieathed everything, real and personal, of 
wliigh he died possessed, to his only nephew, 
Montgomery Brewster of New York, son of 
Robert arid Louise Sedgwick Brewster. Sup- 
plementing this all-important clause there was 
a set of conditions governing the final disposi- 
tion of the estate. The most extraordinary of 
these conditions was the one which required 
the heir to be absolutely penniless upon the 
twenty-sixth anniversary of his birth, Septem- 
ber 23d. 

The instrument went into detail in respect to 
this supreme condition. It set forth that Mont- 
gomery Brewster was to have no other worldly 
possession than the clothes which covered him 
on the September day named. He was to 
begin that day without a penny to his name, 
without a single article of jewelry, furniture or 
finance that he could call his own or could 
thereafter reclaim. At nine o'clock. New 
York time, on the morning of September 23d, 
the executor, under the provisions of the willf 


was t6 make over and transfer to Montgomery 
Brewster all of the moneys, lands, bonds, and 
interests mentioned in the inventory which 
accompanied the will. In the event that Mont- 
gomery Brewster had not, in every particular, 
complied with the requirements of the will, to 
the full satisfaction of the said executor^ 
Swearengen Jones, the estate was to be dis- 
tributed among certain institutions of charity 
designated in the instrument. Underlying 
this imperative injunction of James Sedgwick 
was plainly discernible the motive that 
prompted it. ^ In almost so many words he 
declared that his heir should not receive the 
fortune if he possessed a single penny that had 
come to him, in any shape or form, from the 
man he hated, Edwin Peter Brewster. While 
Sedgwick could not have known at the time of 
his death that the banker had bequeathed one 
million dollars to his grandson, it was more 
than apparent that he expected the young man 
to be enriched liberally by his enemy. It was 
to preclude any possible chance of the mingling 
of his fortune with the smallest portion of 
Edwin P. Brewster's that James Sedgwick, on 
his deathbed, put ^is hand to this astonishing 
There was also a clause in which he under- 



took to dictate the conduct of Montgomery 
Brewster during the year leading up to his 
twenty-sixth anniversary. He required that 
the young man should give satisfactory evi- 
dence to the executor that he was capable of 
managing his affairs shrewdly and wisely, — that 
he possessed the ability to add to the fortune 
through his own enterprise; that he should come 
to his twenty-sixth anniversary with a fair name 
and a record free from anything worse than 
mild forms of dissipation; that his habits be 
temperate; that he possess nothing at the end 
of the year which might be regarded as a 
"visible or invisible asset"; that he make no 
endowments; that he give sparingly to charity; 
that he neither loan nor give away money, for 
fear that it might be restored to him later; 
that he live on the principle which inspires a 
man to **get his money's worth,*' be the 
expenditure great or small. As these condi- 
tions were prescribed for but a single year in. 
the life of the heir, it was evident that Mr. 
Sedgwick did not intend to impose any restric- 
tions after the property had gone into his 

**How do you like it?" asked Mr. Grant, as 
he passed the will to Brewster. 

The latter took the papeV and glanced over 


it with the atr of one who had heard but had 
PQt fully grasped its meaning. 

"It must be a joke, Mr. Grant," he said, 
still groping with difficulty through the fog. 

"No, Mr. Brewster, it is absolutely genuine. 
Here is a telegram from the Probate Court in 
Sedgwick's home county, received in response 
to a query from us. It says that the will is to 
be filed for probate and that Mr. Sedgwick was 
many times a millionaire. This statement, 
which he calls an inventory, enumerates his 
holdings and their value, and the footing shows 
{6,345,000 in round numbers. The invest- 
ments, you see, are gilt-edged. There is not 
\ bad penny in all those millions." 

"Well, it is rather staggering, isn't it?" said 
Montgomery, passing his hand over his fore- 
head. He was beginning to comprehend. 

"In more ways than one. What are you 
going to do about it?" 

"Do about it?" in surprise. "Why, it's 
mine, isn't it?" 

"It is not yours until next September," the 
lawyer quietly said. 

"Well, I fancy I can wait," said Brewster 
with a smile that cleared the air. 

"But, my dear fellow, you are already the 
possessor of a million. Do you forget that 


3rou are expected to be penniless a year from 

"Wouldn't you exchange a million for seven 
millions, Mr. Grant?" 

"But let me inquire how you purpose doing: 
it?" asked Mr. Grant, mildly. 

"Why, by the simple process of destruction. 
Don't you suppose I can get rid of a million in 
a year? Great Scott, who wouldn't do it! All 
I have to do is to cut a few purse strings and 
there is but one natural conclusion. I don't 
mind being a pauper for a few hours on the 23d 
of next September." 

"That is your plan, then?" 

"Of course. First I shall substantiate all 
that this will sets forth. When I am assured 
that there can be no possibility of mistake in 
the extent of this fortune and my undisputed 
claim, I'll take steps to get rid of my grand- 
father's million in short order." Brewster's 
voice rang true now. The zest of life was 
coming back. 

Mr. Grant leaned forward slowly and his 
intent, penetrating gaze served as a check to 
the young fellow's enthusiasm. 

"I admire and approve the sagacity which 
urges you to exchange a paltry million for a 
fortune, but it seems to me that you are forget- 


■ting the conditions," he said, slowly. ''Has it 
occurred to you that it will be no easy task to 
spend a million dollars without in some way 
violating the restrictions in your uncle's will, 
thereby losing both fortunes?'* 


"Mr. Grant, 1'j.i, Take the Contrai 


A new point of view gradually came to Brew- 
ster. All his life had been spent in wondering 
how to get enough money to pay his bills, and 
it had not occurred to him that it might be as 
difficult to sp' . d as to acquire wealth. The 
thought staggered him for a moment. Then 
he cried triumphantly, "I can decline to accept 
grandfather's million." 

"You cannot decline to accept what is 
already yours. I understand that the money 
has been paid to you by Mr. Buskirk. You 
have a million dollars, Mr. Brewster, and it 
cannot be denied." 

"You are right," agreed Montgomery, deject- 
edly. "Really, Mr. Grant, this proposition is 
too much for me. If you aren't required to 
give an immediate answer, I want to think it 

'^ over. It sounds like a dream." 

I "It is no dream, Mr. Brewster," smiled the 

lawyer. "You are face to face with an ama- 
zing reality. Come in to-morrow morning and 

I see me again. Think it over, study it cut 

I 3S 


Remember the conditions of the will and the 
conditions that confront you. In the mean- 
time, I shall write to Mr. Jones, the executor, 
and learn from him just what he expects you 
to do in order to carry out his own conception 
of the terms of your uncle's will." 

''Don't write, Mr. Grant; telegraph. And 
ask him to wire his reply. A year is not very 
long in an affair of this kind." A moment 
later he added, "Damn these family feuds! 
Why couldn't Uncle James have relented a bit? 
He brings endless trouble on my innocent 
head, just because of a row before I was born." 

"He was a strange man. As a rule, one 
does not carry grudges quite so far. But that 
is neither here nor there. His will is law in 
this case." 

"Suppose I succeed in spending all but a 
thousand dollars before the 23d of next Sep- 
tember! I'd lose the seven millions and be the 
next thing to a pauper. That wouldn't be 
quite like getting my money's worth." 

"It is a problem, my boy. Think it over 
very seriously before you come to a decision, 
one way or the other. In the meantime, we 
can establish beyond a doubt the accuracy of 
this inventory." 

"By all means, go ahead, and please urge 




Mr. Jooes not to be too hard on me. I believe 
ril risk it if the restrictions are not too severe. 
But if Jones has puritanical instincts, I might 
as well give up hope and be satisfied with what 
I have." 

"Mr. Jones is very far from what you'd call 
puritanical, but he is intensely practical and 
clear-headed. He will undoubtedly require you 
to keep an expense account and to show some 
sort of receipt for every dollar you disburse." 

* 'Good Lord! Itemize?" 

^*In a general way, I presume." 

**ril have to employ an army of spendthrifts 
to devise ways and means for profligacy." 

"You forget the Jtem which restrains you 
from taking anybody into your confidence con- 
cerning this matter. Think it over. It may 
not be so difficult after a night's sleep." 

"If it isn't too difficult to get the night's 

All the rest of the day Brewster wandered 
about as one in a dream. He was pre-occu- 
pied and puzzled, and more than one of his old 
associates, receiving a distant nod in passing, 
resentfully concluded that his wealth was 
beginning to change him. His brain was so 
full of statistics, figures, and computations that 
it whirled dizzily, and once he narrowly 


etcaped being run down by a cable car. He 
dined alone at a small French restaurant in 
one of the side streets. The waiter marveled 
at the amount of black coffee the young man 
consumed and looked hurt when he did not 
touch the quail and lettuce. 

That night the little table in his room at 
Mrs. Gray's was littered with scraps of pad 
paper, each covered with an incomprehensible 
maze of figures. After dinner he had gone to 
his own rooms, forgetting that he lived on 
Fifth Avenue. Until long after midnight he 
smoked and calculated and dreamed. For the 
first time the immensity of that million thrust 
itself upon him. If on th^t very day, October 
the first, he were to begin the task of spending 
it he would have but three hundred and fifty- 
seven days in which to accomplish the end. 
Taking the round sum of one million dollars 
as a basis, it was an easy matter to calculate 
his average daily disbursement. The situation 
did not look so utterly impossible until he 
held up the little sheet of paper and ruefully 
contemplated the result of that simple problem 
in mathematics. 

It meant an average daily expenditure of 
;M«8oi* 12 for nearly a year, and even then there 
would be sixteen cents left over, for, in prov- 


ing the result of his rough sum in division, he 
could account for but $999,999.84. Then it 
occurred to him that his money would be draw- 
ing interest at the bank. 

"But for each day's $2,801.12, I am getting 
seven times as much," he soliloquized, as he 
finally got into bed. "That means $19,607.84 
a day, a clear profit ol $16,806.72. That's 
pretty good — yes, too good. I wonder if the 
bank couldn't oblige me by not charging 

The figures kept adding and subtracting 
themselves as he dozed off, and once during the 
night he dreamed that Swearengen Jones had 
sentenced him to eat a million dollars' worth 
of game and salad at the French restaurant. 
He awoke with the consciousness that he had 
cried aloud, "I can do it, but a year is not very 
long in an affair of this kind." 

It was nine o'clock when Brewster finally 
rose, and after his tub he felt ready to cope 
with any problem, even a substantial breakfast. 
A message had come to him from Mr. Grant of 
Grant & Ripley, announcing the receipt of 
important dispatches from Montana, and ask- 
ing him to luncheon at one. He had time to 
spare, and as Margaret and Mrs. Gray had gone 
out, he telephoned Ellis to take his horse tn 


the entrance to the park at once. The crisp 
autumn air was perfect for his ride, and Brew- 
ster found a number of smart people already 
riding and driving in the park. His horse was 
keen for a canter and he had reached the 
obelisk before he drew rein. As he was about 
to cross the carriage road he was nearly run 
down by Miss Drew in her new French auto- 

"I beg your pardon," she cried. "You're 
the third person I've run into, so you see I'm 
not discriminating against you." 

'*I should be nattered even to be run down 

"Very well, then, look out." And she 
started the machine as if to charge him. She 
stopped in time, and said with a laugh, "Your 
gallantry deserves a reward. Wouldn't you 
rather send your horse home and come for a 
ride with me?" 

"My man is waiting at Fifty-ninth Street. 
If you'll come that far, Til go with pleasure." 

Monty had merely a society acquaintance 
with Miss Drew. He had met her at dinners 
and dances as he had a host of other girls, but 
she had impressed him more than the others. 
Something indescribable took place every time 
their eyes met. Monty had often wondered 


just what that something meant, but he had 
always realized that it had in it nothing of 
platonic affection. 

'*If I didn't have to meet her eyes," he had 
said to himself, '*I could go on discussing even 
politics with her, but the moment she looks 
at me I know she can see what I'm think- 
ing about." From the first they considered 
themselves very good friends and after their 
third meeting it seemed perfectly natural 
that they should call one another by their first 
names. Monty knew he was treading on 
dangerous ground. It never occurred to him 
to wonder what Barbara might think of him. 
He took it as a matter of course that she must 
feel more than friendly toward him. ^s they 
rode through the maze of carriages, they bowed 
frequently to friends as they passed. They 
were conscious that some of the women, 
noticeably old Miss Dexter, actually turned 
around and gazed at them. 

"Aren't you afraid people will talk about 
us?" asked Monty with a laugh. 

"Talk about our riding together in the 
park? It's just as safe here as it would be 
in Fifth Avenue. Besides, who cares? I 
fancy we can stand it." 

*Tou're a thoroughbred, Barbara. I simply 


didn't want you talked about. When I go too 
far, say the word and drop me.' 

"I have a luncheon at two, but until then 
we have our ride." 

Monty gasped and looked at his watch. 
"Five minutes to one/' he cried. The matter 
of his engagement with the attorney had quite 
escaped him. In the exhilaration of Miss 
Drew's companionship he had forgotten even 
Uncle James's millions. 

''I've got a date at one that means life and 
death to me. Would you mind taking me 
down to the nearest Elevated — or — here, let 
me run it." 

Almost before Barbara was aware of what 
was ha^^^ening they b^d changed places and 
the machine, under Monty's guidance, was 
tearing over the ground. 

"Of all the casual people," said the girl, 
by no means unequal to the excitement, "I 
believe you're kidnaping me." 

But when she saw the grim look on Monty's 
face and one policeman after another warned 
him she became seriously alarmed. "Monty 
Brewster, this pace is positively danger- 



Perhaps it is," he responded, "but if they 
haven't sense enough to keep out of the 


way» they shouldn't kick if they get run 

*'I don't mean the people or the automobiles 
or traps or trees or monuments, Monty; I 
mean you and me. I know we'll either be 
killed or arrested." 

'This isn't anything to the gait I'll be going 
if everything turns out as I expect. Don't be 
worried, Babs. Besides it's one noW: Lord, 
I didn't dream it was so late." 

"Is your appointment so important?" she 
asked, hanging on. 

"Weil, 1 should say it is, and — look out — ^you 
blooming idiot! Do you want to get killed?" 
The last remark was hurled back at an indig- 
nant pedestrian who had escaped destruction 
by the merest chance. 

"Here we are," he said, as they drew up 
beside the entrance to the Elevated. "Thanks 
awfully, — ^you're a corker, — sorry to leave you 
this way. I* 11 tell you all about it later. You're 
a dear to help me keep my appointment." 

"Seems to me you helped yourself," she 
cried after him as he darted up the steps 
*'Come up for tea some day and tell me who 
the lady is." 

After he had gone Miss Drew turned to her 
chauffeur who was in the tonneau. Then she 


laughed unrestrainedly, and the faintest shadow 
of a grin stole over the man's face. 

"Beg pardon, Miss," he said, 'but I'd back 
Mr. Brewster against Fournier any day." 

Only half an hour late, Brewster entered the 
ofRce of Messrs. Grant and Ripley, flushed, 
eager, and unconscious of the big splotch of 
mud that decorated his cheek. 

"Awfully sorry to have kept you waiting/ * 
he apologized. 

"Sherlock Holmes would say that you had 
been driving, Mr. Brewster," said Mr. Ripley, 
shaking the young man's hand. 

"He would miss it, Mr. Ripley. I've been 
flying. What have you heard from Montana?" 
He could no longer check the impatient ques- 
tion, which came out so suddenly that the 
attorneys laughed irresistibly, Brewster joining 
them an instant later. They laid before him 
a half dozen telegrams, responses from bankers, 
lawyers, and mine-operators in Montana. These 
messages established beyond doubt the extent 
of James T. Sedgwick's wealth; it was reported 
to be even greater than shown by the actual 

"And what does Mr. Jones say?" demanded 

"His reply resembles a press dispatch. He 


has tried to make himself thoroughly clear, 
and if there is anything left unsaid it is past 
our comprehension. I am sorry to inform you, 
though, that he has paid the telegraph 
charges," said Mr. Grant, smiling broadly. 

"Is he rational about it?" asked Montgom- 
ery, nervously. 

Mr. Grant gave his partner a quick, signifi-* 
cant glance and then drew from his desk the 
voluminous telegram from Swearengen Jones. 
It was as follows: 

October s. 
Grant & Ripley, ' 

Yucatan Building, New York. 
I am to be sole referee in this matter. You are retained 
as my agents, heir to report to me through you weekly 
One desire of uncle was to forestall grandfather's bequest 
I shall respect that desire. Enforce terms rigidly. He 
was my best friend and trusted me with disposition of 
nil this money. Shall attend to it sacredly. Heir must 
get rid of money left to him in given time. Out of 
respect to memory of uncle he must take no one into his 
confidence. Don't want world to think S. was damned 
fooL He wasn't Here are rules I want him to work 
tmder. i. No reckless gambling. 2 No idiotic Board 
of Trade spectilation. 3. No endowments to institutions 
of any character, because their memory would be an 
invisible asset 4. No indiscriminate giving away of 
funds. By that I don't mean him to be stingy. I hate 
% stingy man and so did J. T. S. 5. No more than 


ordinary dissipation. I hate a saint. So did J. T. Sw 
And both of us sowed an oat or two. 6. No excessive 
donations to charity. If he gives as other millionaires 
do I'll let it go at that Don't believe charity should be 
spoiled by indulgence. It is not easy to spend a million, 
and I won't be unreasonable with him. Let liim spend 
it freely, but not foolishly, and get his money's worth 
out of it. If he does that I'll consider him a g^ood busi- 
ness man. I regard it foolish to tip waiter more thaa 
dollar and car porter does not deserve over five. H« 
does not earn more than one. If heir wants to try for 
this big stake he'd better begin quick, because he might 
slip up if he waits until day of judgment. It's less 
than year off. Lu^'^ to him. Will write you more fully. 

S. Jones. 

f c 

Write more fully!" echoed Montgomery 
What can there be left to write about?" 

"He JS explicit," said the attorney, "but it 
is best to ^know all the conditions before you 
decide. Have you made up your mind?" 

Brewster sat silent for a long time, staring 
hard at the floor. A great struggle was going 
on in his mind. 

"It's a gamble, and a big one," he said at 
last, squaring his shoulders, "but Til take it. 
I don't want to appear disloyal to my grand- 
father, but I think that even he would advise 
me to accept Yes, you may write Mr. Jones 
that I accept the chance." 

The attorneys complimented him on his 


nerv and wished him success. Brewster turned 
with a smile. 

"ril begin by asking what you think a 
reasonable fee for an attorney in a case of this 
kind. I hope you will act for me." 

**You don t want to spend it all in a lump, 
do you?" asked Mr. Grant, smiling. "We can 
hardly act as counsel for both you and Mr. 

"But I must have a lawyer, and the will 
limits the number of my confidants. What am 
I to do?" 

"We will consult Mr. Jones in regard to the 
question. It is not regular, you see, but I 
apprehend no legal difficulties. We cannot 
accept fees from both sides, however," said 
Mr. Grant. 

"But 1 want attorneys who are willing to 
help me. It won't be a help if you decline to 
.accept my money." 

"We'll resort to arbitration," laughed Rip- 

Before night Montgomery Brewster began a 
career that would have startled the world had 
the facts been known. With true loyalty to 
the "Little Sons of the Rich," he asked his 
friends to dinner and opened their eyes. 

"Champagne!" cried Harrison, as they were 


seated at table. "I can't remember the last 
time I had champagne." 

••Naturally/' laughed "Subway" Smith. 
"You couldn't remember anything after that." 

As the dinner progressed Brewster explained 
that he intended to double his fortune withir 
a year. •'I'm going to have some fun, too,'* 
he said, •'and you boys are to help me." 

••Ncpper" Harrison was employed as "super- 
intendent of affairs"; Elon Gardner as finan- 
cial secretary; Joe Bragdon as private secretary; 
"Subway" Smith as counsel, and there were 
places in view for the other members. 

••I want the smartest apartment you can find, 
Nopper," he commanded. •'Don't stop at 
expense.' Have Pettingill redecorate it from 
top to bottom. Get the best servants you can 
find. I'm going to live, Nopper, and hang 
the consequences." 



A fortnight later Montgomery Brewster had 
tk new home. In strict obedience to his 
chiefs command, "Nopper" Harrison had 
leased until the September following one of the 
most expensive apartments to be found in New 
York City. The rental was $23,000, and the 
shrewd financial representative had saved 
(1,000 for his employer by paying the sum in 
advance. But when he reported this bit of 
economy to Mr. Brewster he was surprised 
that it brought forth a frown. **I never saw a 
man who had less sense about money," mut* 
tered "Nopper" to himself. "Why, he spends 
it like a Chicago millionaire trying to get into 
New York society. If it were not for the rest 
of us he'd be a pauper in six months.'* 

Paul Pettingill, to his own intense surprise 
and, it must be said, consternation, was 
engaged to redecorate certain rooms accord- 
ing to a plan suggested by the tenant. The 
rising young artist, in a great flurry of excite*^ 
ment, agreed to do the work for $500, and thes 


blushed like a schoolgirl when he was informed 
by the practical Brewster that the paints and 
material for one room alone would cost twice 
as much. 

"Petty, you have no more idea of business 
than a goat,'' criticized Montgomery, and Pau! 
lowered his head in humble confession. ''That 
man who calcimines your studio could figure on 
a piece of work with more intelligence than you 
reveal. Til pay $2,500. It's only a fair price, 
and I can't afford anything cheap in this place." 

"At this rate you won't be able to afford 
anything," said Pettingill to himself. 

And so it was that Pettingill and a corps of 
decorators soon turned the rooms into a con* 
fusion of scaffoldings and paint buckets, out of 
which in Che end emerged something very dis- 
tinguished. No one had ever thought Pettingill 
deficient in ideas, and this was his opportunity. 
The only drawback was the time limit which 
Brewster so remorselessly fixed. Without that 
he felt that he could have done something 
splendid in the way of decorative panels — 
something that would make even the glory of 
Puvis de Chavannes turn pallid. With it he 
was obliged to curb his turbulent ideas, and 
he decided that a rich simplicity was the 
proper note. The result was gorgeous, but 


not too gorgeous, — it had depth and dis« 

Elated and eager, he assisted Brewster in 
selecting furniture and hangings for each 
room, but he did not know that his em* 
ployer was making conditional purchases of 
everything. Mr. Brewster had agreements 
with all tiie dealers to the effect that they 
were to buy everything back at a fair price, 
if he desired to give up his establishment 
within a year. He adhered to this rule in all 
cases that called for the purchase outright 
of substantial necessities. The bump of cal* 
culativeness in Monty Brewster's head was 
growing to abnormal proportions. 

In retaining his rooms at Mrs. Gray's, b^^ 
gave the flimsy but pathetic excuse that he 
wanted a i!>lace in which he might find occa* 
sional seasons of peace and quiet. When Mrs. 
Gray protested against this useless bit of extrav* 
agance, his grief was so obviously genuine 
that her heart was touched, and there was a 
deep, fervent joy in her soul. She loved this 
fair-faced boy, and tears of happiness came to 
her eyes when she was given this new proof 
of his loyalty and devotion. His rooms were 
kept for him just as if he had expected to 
occupy them every day and every night, not^ 


Urithstanding the luxurious apartments he was to 
maintain elsewhere. The Oliver Optic books 
still lay in the attic, all tattered and torn, but 
to Margaret the embodiment of prospective 
riches, promises of sweet hours to come. She 
knew Monty well enough to feel that he would 
not forget the dark little attic of old for all 
the splendors that might come with the new 

There was no little surprise when he sent out 
invitations for a large dinner. His grandfather 
had been dead less than a month, and society 
was somewhat scandalized by the plain symp- 
toms of disrespect he was showing. No one 
had expected him to observe a prolonged 
season of mourning, but that he should disre- 
gard the 'formalities completely was rather 
shocking. Some of the older people, who had 
not long to live and who had heirs-apparent, 
openly denounced his heartlessness. It was 
not very gratifying to think of what might be 
in store for them if all memories were as short 
as Brewster's. Old Mrs. Ketchell changed her 
willy and two nephews were cut off entirely; a 
very modest and impecunious grandson of 
Joseph Garri ty also was to sustain a severe 
change of fortune in the near future, if the cards 
spoke correctly. Judge Van Woort, who was not 


expected to live through the night, got better 
immediately after hearing some one in the 
sick-room whisper that Montgomery Brewster 
was to give a big dinner. Naturally, the 
heirs-to-be condemned young Brewster in no 
uncertain terms. 

Nevertheless, the dinner to be given by the 
grandson of old Edwin Peter Brewster was the 
talk of the town, and not one of the sixty 
invited guests could have been persuaded to 
miss it. Reports as to its magnificence were 
abroad long before the night set for the dinner. 
One of them had it that it was to cost $3,000 a 
plate. From that figure the legendary price 
receded to a mark as low as $500. Montgom- 
ery would have been only too glad to* pay $3,000 
or more, but some mysterious force conveyed 
to his mind a perfect portrait of Swearengen 
Jones in the act of putting down a large black 
mark against him, and he forbore. 

'*I wish I knew whether I had to abide by 
the New York or the Montana standard of 
extravagance," Brewster said to himself. "I 
wonder if he ever sees the New York papers." 

Late each night the last of the grand old 
Brewster family went to his bedroom where, 
after dismissing his man, he settled down at 
his desk« with a pencil and a pad of paper. 


Lighting the candles, which were more easily 
managed, he found, than lamps, and much 
more costly, he thoughtfully and religiously 
calculated his expenses for the day. ''Nopper* * 
Harrison and Elon Gardner had the receipts for 
all moneys spent, and Joe Bragdon was keeping 
an official report, but the * 'chief, " as they 
called him, could not go to sleep until he was 
satisfied in his own mind that he was keeping 
up the average. For the first two weeks it had 
been easy — in fact, he seemed to have quite a 
comfortable lead in the race. He had spent al« 
most f 100,000 in the fortnight, but he realized 
that the greater part of it had gone into the 
yearly and not the daily expense-account. He 
kept a "profit and loss*' entry in his little pri« 
rate ledger, but it was not like any othei 
account of the kind in the world. What the 
ordinary merchant would have charged to 
**loss'* he jotted down on the "profit" side, and 
he was continually looking for opportunities 
to swell the total. 

Rawles, who had been his grandfather's 
butler since the day after he landed in New 
York, came over to the grandson's establish- 
ment, greatly to the wrath and confusion of the 
latter' s Aunt Emmeline. The chef came from 
Paris and his name was Detuit Ellis, the foot- 


man, also found a much better berth with Monty 
than he had had in the house on the avenue. 
Aunt Emmeline never forgave her nephew for 
these base and disturbing acts of treachery, as 
she called them. 

One of Monty's most extraordinary financial 
feats grew out of the purchase of a f 14,000 
automobile. He blandly admitted to "Nopper*' 
Harrison and the two secretaries that he 
intended to use it to practice with only, and 
that as soon as he learned how to run an 
"auto** as it should be run he expected to buy 
a good, sensible, durable machine for $7,000. 

Hifi staff officers frequently put their heads 
together to devise ways ?nd means of curbing 
Monty's reckless extravagance. They were 

'"He's like a sailor in port," protested Har- 
rison. "Money is no object if he wants a 
thing, and — damn it — he seems to want every- 
thing he sees." 

"It won't last long," Gardner said, reassur- 
ingly. "Like his namesake, Monte Cristo, the 
world is his just now and he wants to enjoy it." 

"He wants to get rid of it, it seems to me." 

Whenever they reproached Brewster about 
the matter he disarmed them by saying, "Now 
that I've got money I mean to give my friends 


a gooo time. Just what you*d do if you were 
in my place. What's money for, anyway?" 

"But this $3,ooo-a-plate dinner " 

Tm going to give a dozen of them, and 
even then I can't pay my just debts. For 
years I've been entertained at people's houses 
and have been taken cruising on their yachts. 
They have always been bully to me, and what 
have I ever done for them? Nothing. Now 
that I can afford it, I am going to return some 
of those favors and square myself. Doesn't it 
lound reasonable?" 

And so preparations for Monty's dinner 
went on. In addition to what he called his 
"efficient corps of gentlemanly aids" he had 
secured the services of Mrs. Dan DeMille 
as "social mentor and utility chaperon." 
Mrs. DeMille was known in the papers as the 
leader of the fast younger married set. She 
was one of the cleverest and best-looking young 
women in town, and her husband was of 
those who did not have to be "invited too." 
Mr. DeMille lived at the club and visited his 
home. Some one said that he was so slow and 
his wife so fast that when she invited him to 
dinner he was usually two or three days late. 
Altogether Mrs. DeMille was a decided acqui- 
intioA to Brewster's campaign committee. It 


r^quirea just her touch to make his parties 
fun instead of funny. 

It was on October i8th that the dinner was 
given. With the skill of a general Mrs. Dan 
had seated the guests in such a way that from 
the beginning things went off with zest. 
Colonel Drew took in Mrs. Valentine and his 
content was assured; Mr. Van Winkle and tha 
beautiful Miss Valentine were side by side and 
no one could say he looked unhappy; Mr. 
Cromwell went in with Mrs. Savage; and the 
same delicate tact — in some cases it was almost 
indelicate — was displayed in the disposition of 
other guests. 

Somehow they had come with the expecta* 
' tion of being bored. Curiosity prompted 
them to accept, but it did not prevent the sub- 
sequent inevitable lassitude. Socially Monty 
Brewster had yet to make himself felt. He 
and his dinners were something to talk about, 
but they were accepted hesitatingly, haltingly. 
People wondered how he had secured the 
co5peration of Mrs. Dan, but then Mrs. Dan 
always did go in for a new toy. To her was 
inevitably attributed whatever success the 
dinner achieved. And it was no small meas- 
ure. Yet there was nothing startling about the 
affair. Monty had decided to begin conserva« 


tiveiy. He did the conventional thing, but he 
did it well He added a touch or two of 
luxury, the faintest aroma of splendor. Pet- 
tingill had designed the curiously wayward 
table, with its comfortable atmosphere of com« 
panionship, and arranged its decoration of 
great lavender orchids and lacy butterfly 
festoons of white ones touched with yellow. 
He had wanted to use dahlias in their many 
rich shades from pale yellow to orange and 
deep red, but Monty held out for orchids. It 
was the artist, too, who had found in a rare 
and happy moment the massive gold candela* 
bra — ancient things of a more luxurious age— 
and their opalescent shades. Against hia 
advice the service, too, was of gold, — ''rank 
vulgarity," he called it, with its rich meanings 
less ornamentation. But here Monty was 
obdurate. He insisted that he liked the color 
and that porcelain had no character. Mrs. 
Dan only prevented a quarrel by suggesting that 
several courses should be served upon Sevres. 
Pettingill's scheme for lighting the room was 
particularly happy. For the benefit of his 
walls and the four lovely Monets which Monty 
had purchased at his instigation, he had de** 
signed a ceiling screen of heavy rich glass in 
tones of white that grew into yellow 4nd dull 


green. It served to conceal the lights in the 
daytime, and at night the glare of electricity 
was immensely softened and made harmonious 
by passing through it. It gave a note of quiet 
to the picture, which caused even these men 
and women, who had been here and there and 
seen many things, to draw in their breath 
sharply. Altogether the effect manifestly made 
an impression. 

Such an environment had its influence upon 
the company. It went far toward making the 
dinner a success. From far in the distance 
came the softened strains of Hungarian music, 
and never had the little band played the "Valse 
Amoureuse" and the "Valse Bleue'" with the 
spirit it put into them that night. Yet the soft 
clamor in the dining-room insistently ignored 
the emotion of the music. Monty, bored as 
he was between the two most important 
dowagers at the feast, wondered dimly what 
invisible part it played in making things go. 
He had a vagrant fancy that without it there 
would have been no zest for talk, no noisy 
competition to overcome, no hurdles to leap. 
As it was, the talk certainly went well, and 
Mrs. Dan inspected the result of h<cr work 
from time to time with smiling satisfaction. 
From across the table she heard Colonel Drew's 


voice,— ''Brewster evidently objects to a loDg 
siege. He is planning to carry us by assault." 

Mrs. Dan turned to "Subway" Smith, who was 
at her right — the latest addition to her menag- 
erie, i "What is this friend of yours?" she 
asked. "I have never seen such complex sim* 
plicity. This new plaything has no real charm 
for him. He is breaking it to find out what it 
is made of. And something will happen when 
he discovers the sawdust." 

"Oh, don't worry about him," said "Subway/* 
easily; "Monty's at least a good sportsman. 
He won't complain, whatever happens. He'll 
accept the reckoning and pay the piper.*' 

It was only toward the end of the evening 
that Monty found his reward in a moment with 
Barbara Drew. He stood before her, squaring 
his shoulders belligerently to keep away 
intruders, and she smiled up at him in that 
bewildering fashion of hers. But it was only for 
an instant, and then came a terrifying din from 
the dining-room, followed by the clamor of 
crashing glass. The guests tried for a moment 
to be courteously oblivious, but the noise was 
so startling that such politeness became farcical. 
The host, with a little laugh, went down the 
liall. It was the beautiful screen near the 
veiling that had fallen. A thousand pieces of 


shattered jjlass covered the place. The table 
was a sickening heap of crushed orchids 
and sputtering candles. Frightened servants 
rushed into the room from one side just as 
Brewster entered from the other. Stupefac- 
tion halted them. After the first pulseless 
moment of horror, exclamations of dismay 
went up on all sides. For Monty Brewster the 
first sensation of regret was followed by a 
diabolical sense of joy. 

"Thank the Lord!" he said softly in the 

The look of surprise he encountered in the 
faces of hid guests brought him up with a jerk. 

"That it didn't happen while we were 
dining/' he added with serene thankfulness. 
And his nonchalance scored for him in the 
idle game he was playing* 



Mr. Brewster's butler was surprised and 
annoyed. For the first time in his official 
career he had unbent so far as to manifest a 
personal interest in the welfare of his master. 
He was on the verge of assuming a responsi- 
bility which makes any servant intolerable. 
But after his interview he resolved that he 
would never again overstep his position. He 
made sure that it should be the last offense. 
The day following the dinner Rawles appeared 
before young Mr. Brewster and indicated 
by his manner that the call was an important 
one. Brewster was seated at his writing- 
table, deep in thought. The exclamation that 
followed Rawles' cough of announcement was 
so sharp and so unmistakably fierce that all 
other evidence paled into insignificance. The 
butler's interruption came at a moment when 
Monty's mental arithmetic was pulling itself 
out of a very bad rut, and the cough drove it 
back into chaos. 

'"What is itr* he demanded, irritably. 



Rawles had upset his calculations to the 
extent of seven or eight hundred dollars. 

"I came to report h'an h' unfortunate condi- 
tion h' among the servants, sir/' said Rawles« 
stiffening as his responsibility became more 
and more weighty. He had relaxed temporarily 
upon entering the room. 

••What's the trouble?" 

••The trouble's h'ended, sir.'* 

••Then why bother me about it?" 

•'I thought it would be well for you to know, 
sir. The servants was going to ask for 'ighef 
wiges to-day, sir." 

"You say they were going to ask? Aren't 
they?" And Monty's eyes lighted up at the 
thought of new possibilities. 

"I convinced them, sir, as how they were get- 
ting good pay as it is, sir, and that they ought 
to be satisfied. They'd be a long time finding 
a better place and as good wiges. They 'aven't 
been with you a week, and here they are strikin' 
for more pay. Really, sir, these American 
servants " 

••Rawles, that'll do!" exploded Monty. The 
butler's chin went up and his cheeks grew 
redder than ever. 

••I beg pardon, sir," be gasped, with a 
respectful brit icjured air. 


*'Rawles, you will kindly not interfere fai 
such matters again. It is not only the privi- 
lege, but the duty of every American to strike 
for higher pay whenever he feels like it, and I 
want it distinctly understood that I am heartily 
in favor of their attitude. You will kindly go 
back and tell them that after a reasonable 
length of service their wiges — I mean wages — 
shall be increased. And dorit meddle again^ 

Late that afternoon Brewster dropped in at 
Mrs. DeMille's to talk over plans for the next 
dinner. He realized that in no other way 
could he squander his money with a better 
chance of getting its worth than by throwing 
himself bodily into society. It went easily, 
and there could be only one asset arising from 
it in the end — his own sense of disgust 

"So glad to see you, Monty," greeted Mrs. 
Dan, glowingly, coming in with a rush. 
*'Come upstairs and I'll give you some tea and 
a cigarette. I'm not at home to anybody." 

"That's very good of you, Mrs. Dan," 
said he, as they mounted the stairs. "I don't 
know what I'd do without your help." He 
was thinking how pretty she was. 

"You'd be richer, at any rate," turning to 
smile upon him from the upper landing. "I was 


Id tears half the night, Monty, over that glass 
screen,'' she said, after finding a comfortable 
place among the cu&hions of a divan. Brewster 
dropped into a roomy, lazy chair in front of h^r 
and handed her a cigarette, as he responded 

'*It amounted to nothing. Of course, it was 
irery annoying that it should happen while the 
guests were still there." Then he added, 
gravely, ''In strict confidence, I had planned 
to have it fall just as we were pushing back 
GUI chairs, but the confounded thing disap- 
pointed me. That's the trouble with these 
automatic climaxes; they usually hang fire. It 
was to have been a sort of Fall of Babylon 
effect, you know.** 

'^Splendid! But like Babylon, it teli it 
the wrong time." 

For a lively quarter of an hour they dis- 
cussed people about town, liberally approving 
the slandered and denouncing the slanderers. 
A still busier quarter of an hour ensued when 
together they made up the list of dinner 
guests^ He moved a little writing-tab]^ up 
to the divan, and she looked on eagerly while 
he wrote down the names she suggested 
after many puckerings of her fair, aristocratic 
Wow, and then drew lines through them whea 


she changed her mind Mrs. Dan DeMillt 
handled her people withoat gloves in making 
up Monty's lists. The dinners were not hers, 
and she could afford to do as she pleased with 
his; he was broad and tall and she was not slow 
to see that he was indifferent. He did not care 
who the guests were, or how they came; he 
merely wished to make sure of their presence. 
His only blunder was the rather diffident 
recommendation that Barbara Drew be asked 
again. If he observed that Mrs. Dan*s head 
sank a little closer to the paper, he attached 
no importance to the movement; he could 
not see that her eyes grew narrow, and he 
paid no attention ^o the little catch in her 

"Wouldn't that be a little— iust a little pro* 
nounced?' she asked, lightly enough 
"You mean— that people might talk?' 
"She might feel conspicuously present" 
"Do you think so? We are such good 
friends, you know *' 

"Of course, if you'd like to have her/* 
slowly and doubtfully, "why, put her name 
down. But you evidently haven't seen that.'* 
Mrs. Dan pointed to a copy of the Trumpet 
which lay on the table. 
When he had handed her the paper she 



said, " *The Censor' is growing facetious at 
your expense." 

"I am getting on in society with a vengeance 
if that ass starts in to write about me. Listen 
to this" — she had pointed out to him the 
t>bnoxious paragraph — " *If Brewster Drew a 
diamond flush, do you suppose he'd catch the 
queen? And if he caught her, how long do 
yoa think she'd remain Drew? Or, if she 
Drew Brewster, would she be willing to learn 
sack a game as Monte?* *' 

The next morning a writer who signed him- 
self *Tb€ Censor'* got a thrashing and one 
Moalfottcrjr Brewster had his name in the 
H p t» i» SttfffMMM b|r fulsome words of praise 



One morning not long after the incidents 
lust related^ Brewster lay in bed, staring at the 
ceiling, deep in thought There was a worried 
pucker on his forehead, half-hidden by the 
rumpled hair, and his eyes were wide and sleep- 
less- He had dined at the Drew's the evening 
before and had had an awakening. As he 
thought of the matter he could recall no spe- 
cial occurrence that he could really use as 
evidence. . Colonel and Mrs. Drew had been 
as kind as ever and Barbara could not have 
been more charming. But something had gone 
wrong and he had endured a wretched evening. 

'That little English Johnnie was to blame," 
he argued. ''Of course, Barbara had a right 
to put any one she liked next to her, but why 
she should have chosen that silly ass is more 
than I know. By Jove, if I had been on the 
other side Til warrant his grace would have 
be«n lost in the dust.'* 

His brain was whirling, and for the first 
time he was beginning to feel the uapleasaat 


pau^s of jealousy. The Duke of Beauchamp 
he especially disliked, although the poor 
man had hardly spoken during the dinner. 
But Monty could not be reconciled. He knew, 
of course, that Barbara had suitors by the 
dozen, but it had never occurred to him that 
they were even seriously considered. Notwith- 
standing the fact that his encounter with '*The 
Censor" had brought her into undesirable 
notice, she forgave him everything after a 
moment's consideration. The first few wrenches 
of resentment were overbalanced by her 
American appreciation of chivalry, however 
inspired. "The Censor" had gone for years 
unpunished; his coarse wit being aimed at 
every one who had come into socfal promi- 
nence. So pungent and vindictive was his 
pen that other men feared ' him, and there 
were many who lived in glass houses in 
terror of a fusilade. Brewster's prompt and 
sufficient action had checked the pernicious 
attacks, and he became a hero among men and 
women. After that night there was no point 
to "The Censor's" pen. Monty's first qualms 
of apprehension were swept away when 
Colonel Drew himself hailed him the morning 
after the encounter and, in no unmeasured 
terms, congratulated him upon his achieve- 


ment, assuring him that Barbara and Mfs. 
Drew approved, although they might lecture 
him as a matter of form. 

But on this morning, as he lay in his bed, 
Monty was thinking deeply and painfully. He 
was confronted by a most embarrassing condi- 
tion and he was discussing it soberly with 
himself. "I've never told her," he said to 
himself, "but if she doesn't know my feeling 
she is not as clever as I think. Besides, I 
haven't time to make love to her now. If it 
were any other girl I suppose I'd have to, but 
Babs, why, she must understand. And yet— 
damn that Duke!" 

In order to woo her properly he would be 
compelled to neglect financial duties that 
needed every particle of brain-energy at his 
command. He found himself opposed at the 
outset by a startling embarrassment, made 
absolutely clear by the computations of the 
night before. The last four days of indiffer- 
ence to finance on one side, and pampering 
the heart on the other, had proved very costly. 
To use his own expression, he had been "set 
back" almost eight thousand dollar^. An 
average like that would be ruinous. 

"Why, think of it," he continued. "For 
each day sacrificed to Barbara I must deduct 


something like twenty-five hundred dollars. A 
long campaign would put me irretrievably in 
the hoje; I'd get so far behind that a holo- 
caust couldn't put me even. She can't expect 
that of me, yet girls are such idiots about 
devotion, and of course she doesn't know what 
a heavy task I'm facing. And there are the 
others — what will they do while I am out of the 
running? I cannot go to her and say, 'Please, 
may I have a year's vacation? I'll come back 
next September.' On the other hand, I shall 
surely neglect my business if she expects me 
to compete. What pleasure shall I get out 
of the seven millions if I lose her? I can't 
afford to take chances. That Duke won't 
have seven millions next September, it's true, 
but he'll have a prodigious argument against 
me, about the twenty-first or second." 

Then a brilliant thought occurred to him 
which caused him to ring for a messenger-boy 
with such a show of impatience that Rawles stood 
aghast. The telegram which Monty wrote 
was as follows: 

SwiA&KNOKN Jones, 

Botte, Montana. 
May I marry and turn all property over to wife, pro* 
Tiding ahe will have me? 



''Why fso^t that reasonable^' he asked huB- 
9c\l aiter the boy had gone. "Making prop- 
erty over to one's wife is neither a loan nor is 
it charity. Old Jones might call it needless 
extravagance, since he's a bachelor, but if s 
generally done because it's good business." 
Monty was hopeful. 

Following bis habit in trouble, he sought 
Margaret Gray, to whom he could always 
appeal for advice and consolation. She was 
to come to his next dinner-party, and it was 
easy to lead up to the subject in hand by men- 
tioning the other guests. 

''And Barbara Drew," he concluded, after 
naming all the others. They were alone in the 
library, and she was drinking in the details of 
the dinner as he related them. 

"Wasn't she at your first dinner?" she asked, 

He successfully affected mild embarrass- 


"Shemu?( be very attractive." There was 
no venom in Peggy's heart. 

"She is attract: re. In fact, she's one of the 
best, Peggy," I ^ said, paving the way. 

"It's too bad she seems to care for that little 



'He's a bounder," he argued. 
'Well, don't take it to heart. You don't 
have to marry him," and Peggy laughed. 

"But I do take it to heart, Peggy," said 
Monty, seriously. "I'm pretty hard hit, and 
I want your help. A sister's advice is always 
the best in a matter of this sort." 

She looked into his eyes du'' for instant, 
not realizing the full importance ot his con- 

"You, Monty?" she said, increduously. 

"I've got it bad, Peggy," he replied, star- 
ing bard at the floor. She could not understand 
die cold, gray tone that suddenly enveloped 
the room. The strange sense of loneliness 
that came over her was inexplicable. The 
little something that rose in her throat 
would not be dislodged, nor could she throw 
off the weight that seemed pressing down upon 
her. He saw the odd look in her eyes and the 
drawn, uncertain smile on her lips, but he 
attributed them to wonder and incredulity. 
Somehow, after all these years, he was trans- 
formed before her very eyes; she was looking 
upon a new personality. He was no longer 
Montgomery, the brother, but she could not 
explain how and when the change crept over 
her. What did k all mean? "I am very glad 


{f it will make you happy, Monty/* she said 
slowly, the gray in her lips giving way to red 
once more. "Does she know?" 

*'I haven't told her in so many words, Peggy, 
but — ^but I'm going to this evening,'* he 
announced, lamely. 
This evening?" 

I can't wait,'^ Monty said as be rose to ga 
I'm glad you're pleased, Peggy; I need your 
good wishes. And Peggry/* he continued, Tvith 
a touch of boyish wistfu ress, **do you think 
there's a chance for a le^low? I've had the 
very deuce of a time over that English- 


It was not quite easy for her to say, ''Monty, 
you are the best in the world. Go in and 

* tf 

From the window she watched him swing off 
iown the street, wondering if he would turn to 
wave his hand to her, his custom for years. 
But the broad back was straight and uncompro- 
mising. His long strides carried him swiftly 
out of sight, but it was many minutes before 
she turned her eyes, which were smarting, a 
little from the point where he was lost in the 
crowd. The room looked ashen to her as she 
brought her mind back to 't« and somehow 
things had grown difficult t^ 


When Montgomery reached home he foond 
this telegram from Mr. Jones. 


New York City. 
8tlck to your knitting, yon itomntwl f ooL 

a. Jem 



It is best not to repeat the expressions 
Brewster used regarding one S. Jones, after 
reading his telegram. But he felt consider- 
ably relieved after he had uttered them. He 
fell to reading accounts of the big prize* 
fight which was to take place in San Francisco 
that evening. He revelled in the descrip- 
tions of "upper cuts" and "left hooks/' and 
learned incidentally that the affair was to 
be quite one-sided. A local amateur was 
to box a champion. Quick to see an oppor- 
tunity, and cajoling himself into the belief that 
Swearengen Jones could not object to such a 
display of sportsmanship, Brewster made Harri- 
son book several good wagers on the result 
He intimated that he had reason to be- 
lieve that the favorite would lose. Harrison 
soon placed three thousand dollars on his man. 
The young financier felt so sure of the result 
that he entered the bets on the profit side of 
his ledger the moment he received Harrison's 



This done, he telephoned Miss Drew. She 
was not insensible to the significance of his 
inquiry if she would be in that afternoon. She 
had observed in him of late a condition of 
uneasiness, supplemented by moroseness and 
occasional periods of irascibility. Every 
girl whose occupation in life is the study of 
men recognizes these symptoms and knows 
how^o treat them. Barbara had dealt with 
many men afflicted in this manner, and the 
flutter of anticipation that came with his urgent 
plea to see her was tempered by experience. 
It had something of joy in it, for she cared 
enough for Montgomery Brewster to have 
made her anxiously uncertain^ of his state of 
mind. She cared, indeed, much mpre than she 
intended to confess at the outset. 

It was nearly half past five when he came, 
and for once the philosophical Miss Drew felt 
a little irritation. So certain was she of his 
object in cdming that his tardiness was a trifle 
ruffling. He apologized for being late, and 
succeeded in banishing the pique that pos« 
sessed her It was naturally impossible for him 
to share all his secrets with her, and that is 
why he did not tell her that Grant & Ripley 
had called him up to report the receipt of a 
telegram from Swearengen Jones, in which the 


gentleman laconically said he could feed the 
whole State of Montana for less than six thou- 
sand dollars. Beyond that there was no com- 
ment. Brewster, in dire trepidation, hastened 
to the office of the attorneys. They smiled 
when he burst in upon them. 

"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "does the 
miserly old hayseed expect me to spend a 
million for newspapers, cigarettes and Boston 
terriers? I thought he would be reason- 

"He evidently has seen the newspaper 
accounts of your dinner, and this is merely his 
comment/' said Mr. Ripley, 

"It's either a warning, or else he's ambigu- 
ous in his compliments," growled Brewster, 

"I don't believe be disapproved, Mr. Brew- 
ster. In the west the old gentleman is widely 
known as a wit." 

"A wit, eh? Then he'll appreciate an 
answer from me. Have you a telegraph blank, 
Mr. Grant?" 

Two minutes later the following telegram to 
Swearengen Jones was awaiting the arrival of 
a messenger-boy, and Brewster was blandly 
assuring Messrs. Grant & Ripley that he did 
not "care a rap for the consequences": 


New York, October 33, i— > 


Butte, Mont 
No doubt yon could do it for less than six thousand. 
Montana is regarded as the best grazing country in the 
worlds but we don't eat that sort of stuff in New York. 
That's why it costs more to live here. 


Just before leaving his apartments for Miss 
Drew's home he received this response from 
far-away Montana: 

BuTTX, Montana, Oct. 23, i— 


New York, 
We are eight thousand feet above the level of the sea. 
I suppose that's why it costs us less to live high. 

, S. JONBS. 

"I was beginning to despair, Monty/' said 
Miss Drew, reproachfully, when he had come 
down from the height of his exasperation and 
remembered that there were things of more 

The light in his eyes brought the faintest 
tinge of red to her cheeks, and where a moment 
betore there had been annoyance there was 
now a feeling of serenity. For a moment 
the silence was fraught with purpose. Monty 
glanced around the room, uncertain how to 
begin. It was not ^o easy as he had imaginedw 


•'You are very good to see me/Vhe said at 
last. **It was absolutely necessary for me to 
talk to you this evening; I could not have 
endured the suspense any longer. Barbara, I've 
spent three or four sleepless nights on your 
account. Will it spoil your evening if I tell 
you in plain words what you already know? It 
won't bother you, will it?" he floundered. 

"What do you mean, Monty?" she begged, 
purposely dense, and with wonderful control of 
her eyes. 

"I love you, Babs, ' he cried. **I thought 
you knew about it all along or I should have 
told you before. That's why I haven't slept. 
The fear that you may not care for me has 
driven me nearly to distraction. It couldn't 
go on any longer. I must know to-day." 

There was a gleam in his eyes that made 
her pose of indifference difficult; the fervor 
of his half-whispered words took possession 
of her. She had expected sentiment of 
such a different character that his frank con- 
fession disarmed her completely. Beneath 
his ardent, abrupt plea there was assurance, 
the confidence of one who is not to be 
denied. It was not what he had said, but the 
way he had said it. A wave of exultation 
swept over her, tingling through every nerve. 


Under the spell her resolution to dally lightly 
with his emotion suffered a check that almost 
brought ignominious surrender. Both of her 
hands were clasped in his when he exultingly 
resumed the charge against her heart, but she 
was rapidly regaining control of her emotions 
and he did not know that he was losing ground 
with each step he took forward. Barbara 
Drew loved Brewster, but she was going to 
make him pay dearly for the brief lapse her 
composure had experienced. When next she 
spoke she was again the Miss Drew who had 
been trained in the ways of the world, and not 
the young girl in love. 

"I care for you a great deal, Monty,'* she 
said, "but I'm wondering whether I care enough 
to — to marry you." 

"We haven't known each other very long, 
Babs," he said, tenderly, "but J think we know ' 

each other well enough to be beyond wonder- 

"It is like you to manage the whole thing," 
she said, chidingly. "Can't you give me time 
to convince myself that I love you as you would 
like, and as I must love if I expect to be happy 
with the man I mairy?" 

"I forgot myself," he said, humbly. 

•'You forgot me," she protested, gently^ 


touched by this sign of contrition. "I do care 
for you, Monty, but don't you see it's no little 
thing you ask of me? I must be sure— very 
sure — ^before I — ^before " 

"Don't be so distressed," he pleaded. **You 
will love me, I know, because you love me now. 
This means much to me, but it means more to 
you. You are the woman and you are the one 
whose happiness should be considered. I can 
five only in the hope that when I come to you 
again with this same story and this same ques- 
tion you'll not be afraid to trust yourself 
to me." 

"You deserve to be happy for that, Monty," 
she said, earnestly, and it was with difficulty 
that she kept her eyes from wavering as they 
looked into his. 

"You will let me try to make you love me?" 
he asked, eagerly. 

"I may not be worth the struggle." 

"I'll take that chance," he replied. 

She was conscious of disappointment after 
he was gone. He had not pleaded as ardently 
as she had expected and desired, and, try as she 
would, she could not banish the touch of irrita- 
tion that had come to haunt her for the night. 

Brewster walked to the club, elated that he 
had at least made a beginning. His position 


Was now clear. Besides losing: a fortune he 
must win Barbara in open competition. 

At the theater that evening he met HarrisoOt 
who was in a state of jubilation. 

'Where did you get that tip?" asked he. 
'Tip? What tip?" from Brewster. 

"On the prize-fight." 

Brewster's face fell and something cold crept 
over him. 

*'How did — what was the result?" he asked, 
sure of the answer. 

•'Haven't you heard? Your man knocked 
him out in the fifth round— surprised eveiy- 




The next two months were busy ones for 
Brewster. Miss Drew saw him quite as often 
as before the important interview, but he was 
always a puzzle to her. 

"His attitude is changed somehow," she 
thought to herself, and then she remembered 
that "a man who wins a girl after an ardent suit 
is often like one who runs after a street car and 
then sits down to read his paper." 

In truth after the first few days Monty seemed 
to have forgotten his competitors, and was rest- 
ing in the consciousness of his assured position, 
^ach day he sent her flowers and considered 
that he had more than done his duty. He used 
no small part of his income on the flowers, but 
in this case his mission was almost forgotten 
in his love for Barbara. 

Monty's attitude was not due to any waning 
of his affection, but to the very unromantic 
business in which he was engaged. It seemed 
to him that, plan as he might, he could not 
devise fresh ways and means to earn $i6,000 a 


day. He was still comfortably ahead in the 
race, but a famine in opportunities was not far 
remote. Ten big dinner parties and a string of 
elaborate after-the-play suppers maintained a 
fair but insufficient average, and he could see 
that the time was ripe for radical measures. 
He could not go on forever with his dinners. 
People were already beginning to refer to the 
fact that he was warming his toes on the Social 
Register, and he had no desire to become the 
laughing-stock of the town. The few slighting, 
sarcastic remarks about his business ability, 
chiefly by women and therefore reflected from 
the men, hurt him. Miss Drew's apparently 
harmless taunt and Mrs. Dan's open criti- 
cism told plainly enough how \}\f wind was 
blowing, but it was Peggy's gentle questions 
that cut the deepest. There was such honest 
concern in her voice that he could see how his 
profligacy was troubling her and Mrs. Gray. 
In their eyes, more than in the others, he felt 
ashamed and humiliated. Finally, goaded by 
the remark of a bank director which he over* 
heard, "Edwin P. Brewster is turning hand- 
springs in his grave over the way he is going 
it," Monty resolved to redeem himself in the 
eyes of his critics. He would show them that 
his brain was not wholly given over to frivolity* 


With this project in mind he decided to cause 
a little excitement in Wall Street. For some 
days he stealthily watched the stock market 
and plied his friends with questions about 
values. Constant reading and observation 
finally convinced him that Lumber and Fuel 
Common was the one stock in which he could 
safely plunge. Casting aside all apprehension, 
S9 far as Swearengen Jones was concerned, he 
prepared for what was to be his one and only 
venture on the Stock Exchange before the 23d 
of the following September. With all the 
cunning and craftiness of a general he laid his 
plans for the attack. Gardner's face was the 
picture of despair when Brewster asked him to 
buy heavily in Lumber and Fuel. 

**Good heavens, Monty," cried the broker, 
••you're joking. Lumber is away up now. It 
can't possibly go a fraction of a point higher. 
Take my advice and don't touch it. It opened 
to-day at iii^i and closed at 109. Why, man, 
you're crazy to think about it for an instant." 

"I know my business, Gardner," said Brew- 
ster, quietly, and his conscience smote him 
when he saw the flush of mortification creep 
into the face of his friend. The rebuke had 
cut Gardner to the quicks 

•'But, Monty, I know what I'm talking 


about. At least let me tell you sometliiag 
about this stock/' pleaded Elon, loyally, 
despite the wound. 

"Gardy, I've gone into this thing carefully, 
and if ever a man felt sure about anything I do 
about this/' said Monty, decidedly but affec- 

"Take my word for it Lumber can't go any 
higher. Think of the situation; the lumber 
men in the north and west are overstocked, 
and there is a strike ready to go into effect 
When that comes the stock will go for a song* 
The slump is liable to begin any day." 

"My mind is made up/' said the other firmly, 
and Gardner was in despair. "Will you or will 
you not execute an order for me at the opening 
to-morrow? I'll start with ten thousand shares. 
What will i*" cost me to margin it lor ten 

"At least a hundred thousand, exclusive of 
commission, which would be twelve and a half 
a hundred shares." Despite the most strenu- 
ous opposition from Gardner, Brewster adhered 
to his design, and the broker executed the 
order the next morning. He knew that Brew- 
ster had but one chance to win, and that was 
ta buy the stock in a lump instead of distribu- 
ting it among several brokers and throughout 


the session. This was a point that Monty nad 

There had been little to excite the Stock 
Exchange for some weeks; nothing was active 
and the slightest flurry was hailed as an 
event. Everyone knew that the calm would be 
disturbed at some near day, but nobody looked 
for a sensation in Lumber and Fuel. It was a 
foregone conclusion that a slump was coming, 
and there was scarcely any trading in the 
stock. When Elon Gardner, acting for Mont- 
gomery Brewster took ten thousand shares at 
lo8^ there was a mighty gasp oh the Exchange, 
then a rubbing of eyes, then commotion. 
Astonishment was followed by nervousness, 
and thenxame the struggle. 

Brewster, confident that the stock could go 
no higher, and that sooner or later it must 
drop, calmly ordered his horse for a ride in the 
snow-covered park. Even though he knew the 
venture was to be a failure in the ordinary 
sense he found joy in the knowledge that he 
was doing something. He might be a fool, 
he was at least no longer inactive. The feel 
of the air was good to him. He was exhila- 
rated by the glitter of the snow, the answer- 
ing excitement of his horse, the gaiety and 
sparkle of life about him. 


Somewhere far back in his inner belt tnere 
seemed to be the sound of cheering and the 
clapping of hands. Shortly before noon he 
reached his club, where he was to lunch with 
Colonel Drew. In the reading-room he 
observed that men were looking at him in a 
manner less casual than was customary. Some 
of them went so far as to smile encouragingly, 
and others waved their hands in the most cor- 
dial fashion. Three or four very young members 
looked upon him with admiration and envy 
and even the porters seemed more obsequious. 
There was something strangely oppressive in 
all this show of deference. 

Colonel Drew's dignity relaxed amazingly 
when he caught sight of the young man. He 
came forward to meet him and his greeting 
almost carried Monty off his feet 

"How did you do it, my boy?" cried the 
Colonel. "She's off a point or two now, I 
believe, but half an hour ago she was booming. 
Gad, I never heard of anything more spec- 

Monty's heart was in his mouth as he rushed 
over to the ticker. It did not take him long to 
grasp the immensity of the disaster. Gardner 
had bought in at io8^, and that very actioa 
seemed to put new life into the stock. Just 


It was on the point of breaking for lack of 
support along came this sensational order for 
ten thousand shares; and there could be but 
one result At one time in the morning 
Lumber and Fuel, traded in by excited holders, 
touched 113^ and seemed in a fair way to hold 
firm around that figure. 

Other men came up and Ii&%.cned ^agerly. 
Brewster realized that his dash in Lumber and 
Fuel had been a master-stroke of cleverness 
when considered from the p^ V.t of view of 
these men, but a catastrophe from his own. 

*'I hope you sold it when it was at the top/" 
said the Colonel anxiously. 

'*I instructed Gardner to sell only wnen I 
gave the word/' said Monty, lamely. Several 
of the men looked at him in surprise and 

••Well, if I were you Vd tell him to sell/* 
remarked the Colonel, coldly. 

"The effect of your plunge has worn off, 
Brewster, and the other side will drive the 
prices down. They won't be caught napping 
again, either,'' said one of the bystanders 

'*I>o you think so?'* And there was a oot« 
of relief in Monty's voice. 

From all sides came the advice to sclik ^^ 


once, but Brewster was not to be pushed. He 
calmly lighted a cigarette, and with an assured 
air of wisdom told them to wait a little while 
and see. 

'*She's already falling off/' said some one at 
the ticker. 

When Brewster's bewildered eyes raced ovct 
the figures the stock was quoted at 112. His 
sigh of relief was heard but misunderstood. 
He might be saved after all. The stock had 
started to go down and there seemed no 
reason why it should stop. As he intended to 
purchase no more it was fair to assume that 
the backbone was at the breaking point The 
crash was bound to come. He could hardly 
restrain a cry of joy. Even while he stood at 
the ticker the little instrument began to tell of 
a further decline. As the price went down his 
hopes went up. 

The bystanders were beginning to be dis 
gusted. *'It was only a fluke after all,'' they 
said to each other. Colonel Drew was appealed 
to to urge Monty to save himself, and he was on 
the point of remonstrance when the message 
came that the threatened strike was off, and 
that the men were willing to arbitrate. Almost 
before one could draw breath this startling news 
began to make itself felt The certainty of a 


great strike was one of the things that bad 
made Brewster sure that the price could not 
hold. With this danger removed there was 
nothing to jeopardize the earning power of the 
stock. The next quotation was a point higher. 

"You sly dog," said the Colonel, digging 
Monty in the side. "I had confidence in you 
all the time." 

In ten minutes' time Lumber and Fuel was 
again up to 113 and soaring. Brewster, panic- 
stricken, rushed to the telephone and called 
up Gardner. 

The broker, hoarse with excitement, was 
delighted when he recognized Brewster's voice. 

"You're a wonder, Monty! I'll see you 
after the close. How the devil did you do it?" 
shouted Gardner. 

"What's the price now?" asked Brewster. 

"One thirteen and three-fourths, and going 
up all the time. Hoorny!" 

"Do you think she'll go down again?'' 
demanded Brewster, 

"Not if I can help it 

"Very well then, go and sell out/' roared 

"But she's going up like " 

"Sell, damn you! Didn't you bear?" 

Gardner, dazed and weak, began selling, and 


finally liquidated the full line at prices ranging 
from 114 to II2>^, but Montgomery Brewster 
had cleared £58,550, and all because it was he 
and not the market that got excited. 



It was not that he had realized heavily in his 
investments which caused his friends and his 
enemies to regard him in a new light; his profit 
had been quite small, as things go on the 
Exchange in these days. The mere fact that 
he had shown such foresight proved sufficient 
cause for the reversal of opinion. Men looked 
at him with new interest in their eyes, with 
fresh confidence. His unfortunate operations 
in the stock market had restored him to favor 
in all circles. The man, young or old, who 
could do what he had done with Lumber and 
Fuel well deserved the new promises that were 
being made for him. 

Brewster bobbed uncertainly between two 
emotions — elation and distress. He had 
achieved two kinds of success — the desired and 
the undesired. It was but natural that he 
should feel proud of the distinction the venture 
had brought to him on one hand, but there 
was reason for despair over the acquisition 
of (50,000. It made it necessary for him to 
undertake an almost superhuman feat — increase 


the number of his January bills. The plans for 
<he ensuing spring and summer were dimly 
getting into shape and they covered many 
startling projects. Since confiding some of 
them to •'Nopper** Harrison, that gentleman 
had worn a never-decreasing look of worry and 
anxiety in his eyes. 

Rawles added to his despair a day or two 
after the Stock Exchange misfortune. He 
brought up the information that six splendid 
little puppies had come to bless his Boston 
terrier family, and Joe Bragdon, who was 
present, enthusiastically predicted that he 
could get $100 apiece for them. Brewster 
loved dogs, yet for one single horrible moment 
he longed to massacre the helpless little 
creatures. But the old affection came back to 
him, and he hurried out with Bragdon to 
inspect the brood. 

"And I've either got to sell them o'r kill 
them," he groaned. Later on he instructed 
Bragdon to sell the pups for $25 apiece, and 
went away, ashamed to look their proud mother 
in the face. 

Fortune smiled on him before the day was 
over, however. He took "Subway" Smith for 
a ride in the "Green Juggernaut," bad weather 
and bad roads notwithstanding. Monty lost 


control of the machine and headed for a 
subway excavation. He and Smith saved 
themselves by leaping to the pavement, sus- 
taining slight bruises, but the great machine 
crashed through the barricade and dropped to 
the bottom of the trench far below. To 
Smith's grief and Brewster's delight the auto- 
mobile was hopelessly ruined, a clear loss of 
many thousands. Monty's joy was short-lived, 
for it was soon learned that three luckless 
workmen down in the depths had been badly 
injured by the green meteor from above. The 
mere fact that Brewster could and did pay 
liberally for the relief of the poor fellows 
afforded him little consolation. His careless- 
ness, and possibly his indifference, had brought 
suffering to these men and their families which 
was not pleasant to look back upon. Lawsuits 
were avoided by compromises. Each 'Of the 
injured men received $4,000. 

At this time everyone was interested in the- 
charity bcizaar at the Astoria. Society was on 
exhibition, and the public paid for the privilege 
of gazing at the men and women whose names 
filled the society columns. Brewster fre- 
quented the booth presided over by Miss 
Drew, and there seemed to be no end to his 
philanthropy. The bazaar lasted two days and 


nights, and after that period his account-book 
showed an even "profit" of nearly $3,000. 
Monty's serenity, however, was considerably 
ruffled by the appearance of a new and aggres- 
sive claimant for the smiles of the fair Barbara. 
He was a Californian of immense wealth and 
unbounded confidence in himself, and letters 
to people in New York had given him a certain 
entree. The triumphs in love and finance that 
had come with his two score years and ten 
had demolished every vestige of timidity that 
may have baen born with him. He was suc- 
cessful enough in the world of finance to have 
become four or five times a millionaire, and he 
had fared so well in love that twice he had been 
a widower. Rodney Grimes was starting out to 
win Barbara with the same dash and impulsive- 
ness that overcame Mary Farrell, the cook in 
the mining-camp, and Jane Boothroyd, the 
school-teacher, who came to California ready 
to marry the first man who asked her. He was a 
penniless prospector when he married Mary, and 
when he led Jane to the altar she rejoiced in hav- 
ing captured a husband worth at least 1(50,000. 
He vied with Brewster in patronizing Bar- 
bara's booth, and he rushed into the conflict 
with an impetuousity that seemed destined to 
carry everything before it. Monty was brushed 


aside, Barbara was preempted as if she were a 
mining claim and ten days after his arrival in 
New York, Grimes was the most talked-of man 
in town. Brewster was not the sort to be 
dispatched without a struggle, however. Rec- 
ognizing Grimes as an obstacle, but not as a 
rival, he once more donned his armor and beset 
Barbara with all the zest of a champion who 
seeks to protect and not to conquer. He 
regarded the Californian as an impostor and 
summary action was necessary. '*I know all 
about him, Babs," he said one day after be 
felt sure of his position. **Why, his father 
was honored by the V. C, on the coast in '49.'^ 

**The Victoria Cross?" asked Barbara inno- 

"No, the vigilance committee." 

In this way Monty routed Ae enemy and 
cleared the field before the end of another 
week. Grimes transferred his objectionable 
affection and Barbara was not even asked to be 
wife number three. Brewster's campaign was 
so ardent that he neglected other duties de- 
plorably, falling far behind his improvident 
average. With Grimes disposed of, he once 
more forsook the battlefield of love and gave 
his harassed and undivided attention to his own 
peculiar business. 


The {ast-and*loose game displeased Mrss 
Barbara greatly. She was at first surprised, 
then piqued, then resentful. Monty gradually 
awoke to the distressing fact that she was go- 
ing to be intractable, as he put it, and forth- 
with undertook to smooth the troubled sea. 
To his amazement and concern she was not to 
be appeased. 

** it occur to you, Monty," she said, 
with a gentle coldness that was infinitely worse 
than heat, "that you have been carrying things 
with a pretty high hand? Where did you 
acquire the right to interfere with my privi- 
leges? You seem to think that I am not to 
speak to any man but you." 

"O, come now, Babs," retorted Monty, "I've 
not been quite as unreasonable as that. And 
you know yourself that Grimes is the worst 
kind of a bounder." 

"I know nothing of the sort," replied the 
3ady, with growing irritation. "You say that 
about every man who gives me a smile or a 
flower. Does it indicate such atrocious taste?" 

"Don't be silly Barbara. You know per- 
fectly well that you have talked to Gardner 
and that idiot Valentine by the hour, and I've 
not said a word. But there are some things I 
can't stand, and the impertinence of Grimes is 


one of them. Jove! he looked at you, out of 
those fishy eyes, sometimes as though he owned 
you. If you knew how many times I've fairly 
ached to knock him down!" 

Inwardly Barbara was weakening a little 
before his masterfulness. But she gave no 

"And it never occurred to you," she said, 
with that exasperating coldness of the voice', 
"that I was equal to the situation. I suppose 
you thought Mr. Grimes had only to beckon 
nd I would joyfully answer. I'll have you 
.<now, Monty Brewster, right now, that I am 
quite able to choose my friends, and to handle 
them. Mr. Grimes has character and I like 
him. He has seen more of life in a year of 
his strenuous career than you ever dreamed of 
in all your pampered existence. His life has 
been real, Monty Brewster, and yours is only 
an imitation." 

It struck him hard, but it left him gentle. 

"Babs," he said, softly, "I can't take that 
from you. You don't really mean it, do you? 
Am I as bad as that?" 

It was a moment for dominance, and he 
missed it. His gentleness left her cold. 

"Monty" she exclaimed irritably, "you 
are terribly exasperating. Do make up your 



miuv. that you and your million are not the 
only things in the world." 

His blood was up now, but it flung him 
away from her. 

"Some day, perhaps^ you'll find out that 
there is not much besides. I am just a little 
too big, for one thing, to be played with and 
thrown aside. I won't stand it." 

He left the house with his head high in the 
air, angry red in his cheeks, and a feeling in 
his heart that she was the most unreasonable 
of women. Barbara, in the meantime, cried 
herself to sleep, vowing she would never love 
l/^onty Brewster again as long as she lived. 

vi sharp jutting wind was blowing in Monty's 
.ace as he left the house. He was thoroughly 

"Throw up your hands!" came hoarsely from 
somewhere, and there was no tenderness in the 
tones. For an instant Monty was dazed and 
bewildered, but in the next he saw two shadowy 
figures walking beside him. "Stop where you 
are, young. fellow," was the next command* 
and he stopped short. He was in a mood to 
fight, but the sight of a revolver made him 
think again. Monty was not a coward, neither 
was he a fool. He was quick to see that a 
struggle would be madness. 


''What do you want?*' be demanded m 
coolly as his nerves would permit 

'Tut up your hands quick f and he hastily 
obeyed the injunction. 

''Not a sound out of you or you get it good 
and proper. You know what we want Get to 
work. Bill; I'll watch his hands." 

"Help yourselves, boys. I'm not fool 
enough to scrap about it Don't hit me or 
shoot, that's all. Be quick about it« because 
Y\\ take cold if my overcoat is open long. 
How^s business been to-night?** Brewster was 
to all intents and purposes the calmest man in 
New York. 

"Fierce!" said the one who was doing the 
searching. "You're the first guy we've seen 
in a week that looks good." 

"I hope you won't be disappointed/' safd 
Monty genially. "If I'd expected this I might 
have brought more money." 

"I guess we'll be satisfied," chuckled tbe 
man with the revolver. "You're awful nice 
and kind, mister, and nlaybe you wouldn't object 
to tellin' us when you'll be up dis way ag'in." 

"It's a pleasure to do business with you, 
pardner," said the other, dropping Montgr's 
^300 watch in his pocket. ' 'We'll leave car-fare 
for you for your hoD^^tv." His hands wwe 


ninnin(( cnrough Brewster's pockets with the 
quickness of a machine. "You don't go much 
on jewelry, I guess. Are dese shoit buttons 
de real t'ing?" 

•'They're pearls," said Monty, cheerfully, 

"My favorite jool," said the man with the 
revolver. "Clip 'em out, Bill." 

"Don't cut the shirt," urged Monty. "I'm 
going to a little supper and I don't like the 
idea of a punctured shirt-front." 

"I'll be careful as I kin, mister. There, I 
guess dat's all. Shall I call a cab for you, sir?'* 

"No, thank you, I think I'll walk." 

"Well, just walk south a hundred steps with- 
out lookin' 'round er yellin* and you kin save 
your skin. I guess you know what I mean, 

"I'm sure I do. Good-night." 

**Good-night," came in chuckles from the 
two hold-up men. But Brewster hesitated, a 
«harp thought penetrating his mind. 

"By gad!" he exclaimed, "you chaps are 
very careless* Do you know you've missed a 
roll of three hundred dollars in this overcoat 
pocket?" The men gasped and the spasmodic 
oaths that came from them were born of 
incredulity, it was plain that they doubted 
their ears 


"Say it ag'm," muttered Bill, in bewild^ 

"He's stringin' us, Bill/* said the other. 

"Sure," growled Bill "It's a nice way to 
treat us, mister. Move along now and don't 
turn 'round." 

"Well, you're a couple of nice highwaymen/' 
cried Monty in disgust 

"Sh— not so loud" 

"That is no way to attend to business. Do 
you expect me to go down into my pocket and 
hand you the goods on a silver tray?" 

"Keep your hands up! You don't woik dat 
game on me. You got a gun there/* 

"No, I haven't. This is on the level. ' You 
overlooked a roll of bills in your haste and I'm 
not the sort of fellow to see an earnest endeav- 
orer get the worst of it My hands are up. 
See for yourself if I'm not telling you the 

"What kind of game is dis?" growled Bill, 
dazed and bewildered. "I'm blowed if I know 
w'at to t'ink o' you," cried he in honest 
amazement. "You don't act drunk, and you 
ain't crazy, but there's somethin' wrong wid 
you. Are you givin' it to us straight about de 

"You can find out easily/^ 



•'Well, I hate to do it, boss, but I guess we'll 
just take de overcoat and all. It looks like a 
trick and we takes no chances. 0£E wid de 

Monty's coat came off in a jiffy and he stood 
shivering before the dumbfounded robbers. 

"We'll leave de coat at de next corner, 
pardner. It's cold and you need it more'n we 
do. You're de limit, you are. So long. Walk 
right straight ahead and don't yell." 

Brewster found his coat a few minutes later, 
and went whistling away into the night The 
roll of bills was gone. 



Brewster made a good story of the *'hold» 
ap" at the club, but he did not relate all the 
details. One of the listeners was a new public 
commissioner who was aggressive in his efforts 
at reform. Accordingly, Brewster was sum- 
moned to headquarters the next morning for 
the purpose of looking over the * 'suspects" 
that had been brought in. Almost the first 
man that he espied was a rough-looking fellow 
whose identity could not be mistaken. It was 

"Hello, Bill," called Monty, gaily. Bill 
ground his teeth for a second, but his eyes had 
such an appeal in them that Monty relented. 

•'You know this fellow, Mr. Brewster? 
demanded the captain, quickly. Bill looked 
utterly helpless. 

•'Know Bill?" questioned Monty in surprise. 
"Of course I do, Captain." 

'*He was picked up late last night and 
detained, because be would give no account of 
bis actions." 



99 I 



••Was it as bad as that, Bill?*' asked Brew- 
ster, with a smile. Bill mumbled something 
and assumed a look of defiance. Monty's 
attitude puzzled him sorely. He hardly 
breathed for an instant, and gulped percep- 

"Pass Bill, Captain. He was with me last 
night just before my money was taken, and he 
couldn't possibly have robbed .me without my 
knowledge. Wait for me outside. Bill. 1 want 
to talk to you. Fm quite sure neither of the 
thieves is here, Captain," concluded Brewster, 
after Bill had obeyed the order to step out of 
the line. 

Outside the door the puzzled crook met 
Brewster, who shook him warmly by the hand. 

"You're a peach," whispered Bill, gratefully. 
"What did you do it for, mister?" 

•'Because you were kind enough not to cut 
my shirt.** 

"Say, you're all rights that's what. Would 
you mind havin* a drink with me? It's your 
money, but the drink won't be any the worse 
for that. We blowed most of it already, but 
here's what's left.** Bill handed Monty a roll 
of bills. 

"I'd a kept it if you'd made a fight,'* he con- 
tinued, ''but it ain't square to keep it now.'* 


Brewster refused the money, but took back 
his watch. 

"Keep it, Bill," he said, "you need it more 
than I do. It's enough to set you up in some 
other trade. Why not try it?" 

"I will try, boss," and Bill was so profuse 
in his thanks that Monty had difficulty in get- 
ting away. As he climbed into a cab he heard 
Bill say, "I will try, boss, and say, if ever I 
can do anything for you, jes' put me nex\ 
I'm nex' you all de time." 

He gave the driver the name of his club, but 
as he was passing the Waldorf he remembered 
that he had several things to say to Mrs. Dan. 
The order was changed, and a few moments 
later he was received in Mrs. Dan's very spe- 
cial den. She wore something soft and grace- 
ful in lavender, something that was light and 
wavy and evanescent, and made you watch its 
changing shadows. Monty looked down at 
her with the feeling that she made a very 
effective picture. 

"You are looking pretty fit this morning, 
my lady," he said by way of preamble. "How 
well everything plays up to you." 

"And you are unusually courtly, Monty," 
she smiled. "Has the world treated you so 
generously of late?" 


"It is treating me generously enough just 
now to make up for anything/' and he 
looked at her. "Do you know, Mrs. Dan, that 
it is borne in upon me now and then that there 
are things that are quite worth while?" 

**Oh, if you come to that," she answered, 
lightly, "everything is worth while. For you, 
Monty, life is certainly not slow. You can 
dominate; you can make things go your way. 
Aren't they going your way now, Monty" — 
this more seriously — "What's wrong? Is the 
pace too fast?" 

His mood increased upon him with her sym- 
pathy. **Oh, no," he said, "it isn't that. You 
are good — and I'm a selfish beast. Things are 
perverse and people are desperately obstinate 
sometimes. And here I'm taking it out on 
you. You are not perverse. You are not 
obstinate. You are a ripper, Mrs. Dan, and 
you are going to help me out in more ways than 
one. r 

"Well, to pay for all these gallantries, 
Monty, I ought to do much. I'm your frieno 
through thick and thin. You have only to 
command me." 

"It was precisely to get your help that I 
came in. I'm tired of those confounded din- 
ners. You know yourself that they are al) 


alike — the same people, the same flowers, the 
same things to eat, and the same inane twaddle 
in the shape of talk^ Who cares about them 

"Well, I like that, " she interrupted. "After 
all the thought I "put into those dinners, after 
all the variety I so carefully secured! My dear 
boy, you are frightfully ungrateful.*' 

"Oh, you know what I mean And you 
know quite as well as I do that it is perfectly 
true. The dinners were a beastly bore, which 
proves that they were a loud success. Your 
work was not done in vain. But now I want 
something else. We must push along this 
ball we've been talking of. And the yacht- 
ing cruise — that can't wait very much longer." 

"The ball first," she decreed. "I'll see to 
the cards at once, and in a day or two I'll have 
a list ready for your gracious approval And 
what have you done?" 

"Pettingill has some great ideas for doings 
over Sherry's. Harrison is in communication 
with the manager of that Hungarian orchestra 
you spoke of, and he finds the men quite ready 
for a little jaunt across the water. We have 
that military band — I've forgotten the number 
of its regiment — for the promenade music, and 
the new Paris sensation, the contralto, is com- 


I f 
< I 


!ng over with her primo tenore for some special 

**You were certainly cut out for an executive, 
Monty," said Mrs. Dan. "But with the music 
and the decorations arranged, you've only 
begun. The favors are the real thing, and if you 
say the word, we'll surprise them a littlei 
Don't worry about it, Monty. It's a go already. 
We'll pull it off together." 

**You are a thoroughbred, Mrs Dan," he 
exclaimed. "You do help a fellow at a pinch." 
That's all right, Monty," she answered; 
give me until after Christmas and I'll have 
the finest favors \ever seen. Other people may 
have their paper hats and pink ribbons but you 
can show them how the thing ought to be done. 

Her reference to Christmas haunted Brew- 
ster, as he drove down Fifth Avenue, with the 
dread of a new disaster. Never before had he 
looked upon presents as a calamity; but this 
year it was different. Immediately he began 
to plan a bombardment of his friends with 
costly trinkets, when he grew suddenly doubt- 
ful of the opinion of his uncle's executor upon 
this move. But in iresponse to a telegram, 
Swearengen Jones, with pleasing irascibility, 
informed him that "anyone with a drop of 
human kindness in his bodv would consider 


it his duty to give Christmas presents to those 
who deserved them." Monty's way was now 
-clear. If his friends meant to handicap him 
with gifts, he knew a way to get even. For 
two weeks his mornings were spent at Tiflany's, 
and the afternoons brought joy to the heart 
of every dealer in antiquities in Fourth and 
Fifth Avenues. He gave much thought to 
the matter in the effort to secure many small 
articles which elaborately concealed their 
value. And he had taste. The* result of his 
endeavor was that many friends who would 
not have thought of remembering Monty with 
even a card were pleasantly surprised on 
Christmas Eve. 

As it turned out, he fared very well in the 
matter of gifts, and for some days much of his 
time was spent in reading notes of profuse 
thanks, which were yet vaguely apologetic. 
The Grays and Mrs. Dan had remembered him 
with an agreeable lack of ostentation, and 
some of the **Little Sons of the Rich," who 
had kept one evening a fortnight open for the 
purpose of *'using up their meal-tickets'* at 
Monty's, were only too generously grateful. 
Miss Drew had forgotten him, and when they 
met after the holiday her recognition was of 
the coldest. He had thought that, under the 


circumstances, he could send her a gift of 
value, but the beautiful pearls with which he 
asked for a reconciliation were returned with 
**Miss Drew*s thanks/* He loved Barbara sin- 
cerely, and it cut. Peggy Gray was taken into 
his confidence and he was comforted by her 
encouragement. It was a bit difficult for her 
to advise him to try again, but his happiness 
was a thing she had at heart. 

**It's beastly unfair, Peggy,'* he said. "I've 
really been white to her. I believe I'll chuck 
the whole business and leave New York." 

"You're going away?** and there was just a, 
suggestion of a catch in her breath. 

"I'm going to charter a yacht and sail away 
from this place for three or four months." 
Peggy fairly gasped. "What do you think of 
the scheme?" he added, noticing the alarm and 
incredulity in her eyes. 

"I think you'll end in the poor-house, Mont- 
gomery Brewster," she said, with a-laugh. 



It was while Brewster was in the depths of 
despair that his financial affairs had a windfall. 
One of the banks in which his money was 
deposited failed and his balance of over 
$100,000 was wiped out. Mismanagement was 
the cause and the collapse came on Friday, the 
thirteenth day of the month. Needless to say 
it destroyed every vestige of the superstition 
he may have had regarding Friday and the 
number thirteen. 

Brewster, had money deposited in five banks, 
a transaction inspired by the wild hope that 
one of them might some day suspend opera- 
tions and thereby prove a legitimate benefit to 
him. There seemed no prospect that the bank 
could resume operations, and if the depositors 
in the end realized twenty cents on the dollar 
they would be fortunate. Notwithstanding the 
fact that everybody had considered the institu- 
tion substantial there were not a few wiseacres 
who called Brewster a fool and were so unreas- 
onable as to say that he did not know how to 



handle money. He heard that Miss Drew, in 
particular, was bitterly sarcastic in referring to 
his stupidity. 

This failure caused a tremendous flurry in 
banking circles. It was but natural that 
questions concerning the stability of other 
banks should be asked, and it was not long 
before many wild, disquieting reports were 
afloat. Anxious depositors rushed into the big 
banking institutions and then rushed out again, 
partially assured that there was no danger. 
The newspapers sought to allay the fears of 
the people, but there were many to whom fear 
became panic There were short, wild runs on 
some of the smaller banks, but all were in a 
fair way to restore confidence when out came 
the rumor that the Bank of Manhattan Island 
was in trouble. Colonel Prentiss Drew, rail- 
road magnate, was the president of this bank. 

When the bank opened for business on the 
Tuesday following the failure, there was a 
stampede of frightened depositors. Before 
eleven o'clock the run had assumed ugly pro- 
portions and no amount of argument could stay 
the onslaught. Colonel Drew and the direct- 
ors, at first mildly distressed, and then seeing 
that the affair had become serious, grew more 
alarmed than they could afford to let the public 


see. The loans of all of the banks were 
unusually large. Incipient runs on some had 
put all of them in an attitude of caution and 
there was a natural reluctance to expose their 
own interests to jeopardy by coming to the 
r«*tief ot the Bank of Manhattan Island. 

Monty Brewster had something like $200,000 
in Colonel Drew's bank. He would not have 
regretted on his own account the collapse of 
this institution, but he realized what it meant 
to the hundreds of other depositors, and for 
the first time he appreciated what his money 
could accomplish. Thinking that his presence 
might give confidence to the other depositors 
and stop the run he went over to the bank with 
Harrison and Bragdon. The tellers were 
handing out thousands of dollars to the eager 
depositors. His friends advised him strongly 
to withdraw before it was too late, but Monty 
was obdurate. They set it down to his desire 
to help Barbara's father and admired his 

"I understand, Monty," said Bragdon, and 
both he and Harrison went among the people 
carelessly asking one another if Brewster had 
come to withdraw his money. *'No, he has 
over $200,000, and he's going to leave it," the 
other would say. 


Each excited group was visited in turn by the 
two men, but their assurance seemed to accom- 
plish but little. These men and women were 
there to save their fortunes; the situation was 

Colonel Drew, outwardly calm and serene^ 
but inwardly perturbed, finally saw Brewster 
and his companions. He sent a messenger 
over with the request that Monty come to the 
president's private office at once. 

"He wants to help you to save your money," 
cried Bragdon in low tones. "That shows it's 
all up." 

"Get out every dollar of it, Monty, and 
don't waste a minute. It's a smash as sure as 
fate," urged Harrison, a feverish expression in 
his eyes. 

Brewster was ^idmitted to the Colonel's 
private office. Drew was alone and was pacing 
the floor like a caged animal. 

"Sit down, Brewster, and don't mind if I 
seem nervous. Of course we can hold out, but 
it is terrible — terrible. They think we are 
trying to rob them. They're mad — utterly 

"I never saw anything like it, Colonel. Are 
you sure you can meet all the demands?''' asked 
Brewster, thoroughly excited. The Colonel's 


face was white and he chewed his cigas 

"We can hold out unless some of our 
heaviest depositors get the fever and swoop 
down upon us. I appreciate your feelings in 
an affair of this kind, coming so swiftly upon 
the heels of the other, but I want to give you 
my personal assurance that the money you 
have here is safe. I called you in to impress 
you with the security of the bank. You ought 
to know the truth, however, and I will tell yoq 
in confidence that another check like Austin's, 
which we paid a few minutes ago, would 
cause us serious, though temporary, embarrass- 

"I came to assure you that I have not 
thought of withdrawing my deposits from this 
bank, Colonel. You need have no uneasi* 

ness '• 

The door opened suddenly and one of the 
officials of the bank bolted Lside, his face as 
white as death. He started to speak before he 
saw Brewster, and then closed his lips despair- 

"What is it, Mr. Moore?" asked Drew, as 
calmly as possible. "Don't mind Mr. Brew- 

"Oglethorp wants to draw two hundred and 


fifty thousand dollars," said Moore in strained 

"Well, he can have it, can't he?" asked the 
Colonel quietly. Moore looked helplessly at 
the president of the bank, and his silence spoke 
more plainly than words. 

"Brewster, it looks bad," said the Colonel, 
turning abruptly to the young man. The other 
banks are afraid of a run and we can't count on 
much help from them. Some of them have 
helped us and others have refused. Now, I 
not only ask you to refrain from drawing out 
your deposit, but I want you to help us in this 
crucial moment." The Colonel looked twenty 
years older and his voice shook perceptibly^ 
Brewster's pity went out to him in a flash. 

"What can I do. Colonel Drew?" he cried. 
"I'll not take my money out, but I don't know 
how I can be of further assistance to you. 
Command me, sir." 

"You can restore absolute confidence, 
Monty, my dear boy, by increasing your 
deposits in our bank," said the Colonel 
slowly, and as if dreading the fate of the sug- 

"You mean, sir, that I can save the bank by 
drawing my money from other banks and 
putting it here?" asked Mopty, slowly. He 


was thinking harder and faster than he had 
ever thought in his life. Could he afford to 
risk the loss of his entire fortune on the fate of 
this bank? What would Swearengen Jones say 
if he deliberately deposited a vast amount of 
money in a tottering institution like the Bank 
of Manhattan Island? It would be the maddest 
folly on his part if the bank went down. There 
could be no mitigating circumstances in the 
eyes of either Jones or the world, if he 
swamped all of his money in this crisis. 

"I beg of you, Monty, help us." The 
Colonel's pride was gone. **It means disgrace 
if we close our doors even for an hour; it means 
a stain that only years can remove. You can 
restore confidence by a dozen strokes of your 
pen, and you can save us." 

He was Barbara's father. The proud old 
man was before him as a suppliant, no longer 
the cold man of the world. Back to Brewster's 
mind came the thought of his quarrel with 
Barbara and of her heartlessness. A scratch 
of the pen, one way or the other, could change 
the life of Barbara Drew. The two bankers 
stood by scarcely breathing. From outside 
came the shuffle of many feet and the muffled 
roll of voices. Again the door to the private 
office opened and a clerk excitedly motioned 


for Mr. Moore to hurry to the front of the 
bank. Moore paused irresolutely, his eyes 
on Brewster's face. The young man knew the 
time had come when he must help or deny 

Like a flash the situation was made clear to 
him and his duty was plain. He remembered 
that the Bank of Manhattan Island held every 
dollar that Mrs. Gray and Peggy possessed; 
their meager fortune had been entrusted to the 
care of Prentiss Drew and his associates, and it 
was in danger. 

**I will do all I can, Colonel," said Monty, 
"but upon one condition." 

*That is?" 

** Barbara must never know of this." The 
Colonel's gasp of astonishment was cut short 
as Monty continued. *Tromise that she shall 
never know." 

'*I don't understand, but if it is your wish I 

Inside of half an hour's time several hundred 
thousand came to the relief of the struggling 
bank, and the man who had come to watch the 
run with curious eyes turned out to be its 
savior. His money won the day for the Bank 
of Manhattan Island. When the happy presi- 
dent and directors offered to pay him an 


astonishingly high rate of interest for the use 
of the money he proudly declined. 

The next day Miss Drew issued invitations 
for a cotillion. Mr. Montgomery Brewster was 
not asked to attend. 




Miss Drew's cotillion was not graced by the 
presence of Montgomery Brewster. It is true 
he received an eleventh-hour invitation and 
a very cold and difficult little note of apology, 
but he maintained heroically the air of disdain 
that had succeeded the first sharp pangs of 
disappointment. Colonel Drew, in whose good 
graces Monty had firmly established himself, 
was not quite guiltless of usurping the role of 
dictator in the effort to patch up a truce. A 
few nights before the cotillion, when Barbara 
told him that Herbert Ailing was to lead, he 
explosively expressed surprise. '*Why not 
Monty Brewster, Babs?" he demanded. 

**Mr. Brewster is not coming," she re- 
sponded calmly. 

"Going to be out of town?" 

•'I'm sure I do not know," stifHy. 

••What's this?" 

•'He has not been asked, father." Miss 
Prew was not in good humor. 




*'Not asked?" said the Colonel in amaze* 
ment. "It's ridiculous, Babs, send him aa 
invitation at once." 

'*This is my dance, father, and I don't want 
to ask Mr. Brewster." 

The Colonel sank back in his chair and 
struggled to overcome his anger. He knew 
\hat Barbara had inherited his willfulness, and 
had long since discovered that it was best to 
treat her with tact. 

"I thought you and he were — "but the 
Colonel's supply of tact was exhausted. 

"We were" — in a moment of absent mind* 
edness. "But it's all over," said Barbara. 

"Why, child, there wouldn't have been a 
cotillion if it hadn't been for — " but the Colonel 
remembered his promise to Monty and 
checked himself just in time. "I — I mean 
there will not be any party, if Montgomery 
Brewster is not asked. That is all I care to 
say on the subject," and he stamped out of 
the room. 

Barbara wept copiously after her father had 
gone, but she realized that his will was law and 
that Monty must be invited. "I will send an 
invitation," she said to herself, "but if Mr. 
Brewster comes after he has read it, I shall be 


Montgomery, however, did not receive the 
Bote in the spirit in which it had been sent 
He only saw in it a ray of hope that Barbara 
was relenting and was jubilant at the pros- 
pect of a reconciliation. The next Sunday he 
sought an interview with Miss Drew, but she 
received him with icy reserve. If he had 
thought to punish her by staying away, it was 
evident that she felt equally responsible for a 
great deal of misery on his part. Both had 
been more or less unhappy, and both were 
resentfully obstinate. Brewster felt hurt and 
insulted, while she felt that he had imposed 
upon her disgracefully. He was now ready to 
cry quits and it surprised him to find her 
obdurate. If he had expected to dictate the 
terms of peace he was woefully disappointed 
when she treated his advances with cool 

"Barbara, you know I care very much for 
you," he was pleading, fairly on the road to 
submission. "I am sure 3rou are not quite 
indifferent to me. This foolish misunderstand- 
ing must really be as disagreeable to you as it 
is to me." 

"Indeed," she replied, lifting her brows 
disdainfully. "You are assuming a good deal, 
Mr. Brewster." 


''I am merely recalling the fact that jmi 
once told me you cared. You would not 
promise anything, I know, but it meant much 
that you cared. A little difference could not 
have changed your feeling completely/' 

"When you are ready to treat me with 
respect I may listen to your petition,'" she said, 
rising haughtily. 

•'My petition?" He did not like the word 
and his tact quite deserted him. "It's as much 
yours as mine. Don't throw the burden of 
responsibility on me. Miss Drew." 

"Have I suggested going back to the old 
relations? You will pardon me if I remind 
you of the fact that you came to-day on your 
own initiative and certainly without my solici- 

"Now, look here, Barbara — " he began, 
dimly realizing that it was going to be hard, 
very hard, to bring her to reason. 

"I am very sorry, Mr. Brewster, but you will 
have to excuse me. I am going out." 

"I regret exceedingly that I should have 
disturbed you to-day, Miss Drew," he said 
swallowing his pride. "Perhaps I may have 
tfie pleasure of seeing you again." 

As he was leaving the house, deep anger in 
hb soul, he encountered the Colonel. There 


something about Monty's greeting, cordial 
89 it was, that gave the older man a hint 
as to the situation. 

•'Won't you stop for dinner, Monty?" he 
asked, in the hope that his suspicion was 

"Thank you. Colonel, not to-night," and he 
was off before the Colonel could hold him. 

Barbara was tearfully angry when her father 
came into the room, but as he began to re* 
monstrate with her the tears disappeared and 
left her at white heat. 

** Frankly, father, you don't understand mat* 
ters," she said with slow emphasis; "I wish 
you to know now that if Montgomery Brewster 
calls again, I shall not see him." 

*'If that is your point of view, Baroara, I 
wish you to know mine." The Colonel rose 
and stood over her, everything forgotten but 
the rage that went so deep that it left the 
surface calm. Throwing aside his promise to 
Brewster, he told Barbara with dramatic 
simplicity the story of the rescue of the bank. 
•'You see," he added, "if it had not been for 
that open-hearted boy we would now be 
ruined. Instead of giving cotillions, you 
might be giving music lessons. Montgomeiy 
Brewster will always be welcome in this house 


and you will see that my wishes are respected. 
Do you understand?" 

* 'Perfectly," Barbara answered in a still 
voice. "As your friend I shall try to be civil 
to him." 

The Colonel was not satisfied with so cold" 
blooded an acquiescence, but he wisely retired 
from the field. He left the girl silent and 
crushed, but with a gleam in her eyes that 
was not altogether to be concealed. The story 
had touched her more deeply than she would 
willingly confess. It was something to know 
that Monty Brewster could do a thing like 
that, and would do it for her. The 'exultant 
smile which it brought to her lips could only 
be made to disappear by reminding herself 
sharply of his recent arrogance. Her anger* 
she found, was a plant which needed careful 

^t was in a somewhat chastened mood that 
she started a few days later for a dinner at th6 
DeMille's. As she entered in her sweeping 
golden gown the sight of Monty Brewster at 
the other end of the room gave her a flutter at 
the he^rt. But it was an agitation that was 
very carefully concealed. Brewster was 
certainly unconscious of it. To him the 
position of guest was like a disguise and he 


was pleased at the prospect of letting himself 
go under the mask without responsibility. But 
it took on a di£Eerent color when the butler 
handed him a card which signified that he 
was to take Miss Drew in to dinner. Hastily 
seeking out the hostess he endeavored to 
convey to her the impossibility of the situation. 

"I hope you won't misunderstand me," he 
said. "But is it too late ^o change my place at 
the table?" 

"It isn't conventional, I know, Monty. 
Society's chief aim is to separate engaged 
couples at dinner," said Mrs. Dan with a laugh, 
''It would be positively compromising if a man 
and his wife sat together." 

Dinner was announced before Monty could 
utter another word, and as she led him over to 
Barbara she said, "Behold a generous hostess 
who gives up the best man in *^^ crowd so that 
he and someone else may ha/« a happy time. 
I leave it to you, Barbara, if that isn't the test 
of friendship." 

For a moment the two riveted their eyes on 
the floor. Then the humor of the situation 
came to Monty. 

"I did not know that we were supposed to 
do Gibson tableaux to-night," he said drily as 
he piX)ffered his arm. 


*'I don't understand,^^ and Barbara's curl* 
osity overcame her deteroiination not to 

"Don't you remember the picture of the mao 
who was called upon to take his late fiancde 
out to dinner?" 

The awful silence with which this remark 
was received put an end to further efforts at 

The dinner was probably the most painful 
experience in their lives. Barbara had come to 
it softened and ready to meet him half way. 
The right Kind of humility in Monty would 
have found her plastic. But she had very 
definite and rigid ideas of his duty in the 
premises. And Monty was too simple minded 
to seem to suffer, and much too flippant to 
understand. It was plain to each that the 
other did not expect to talk, but they both 
realized that they owed a duty to appearances 
and to their hostess. Through two courses, at 
least, there was dead silence between them. 
It seemed as though every eye in the room were 
on them and every mind were speculating. At 
last, in sheer desperation, Barbara turned to 
him with the first smile he had seen on her 
{ace in days. There was no smile in her tye^ 
bowever« and Monty understood. 


''We might at least give out the impression 
that we are friends," she said quietly. 

"More easily said than done," he responded 

"They are all looking at us and wondering.*' 

"I don't blame them." 

"We owe something to Mrs. Dan« I think." 

"I know." 

Barbara uttered jome inanity whenever she 
caught anyone looking in their direction, but 
Brewster seemed not to hear. At length he 
cut short some remark of hers about the 

"What nonsense this is, Barbara," he said. 
''With anyone else I would chuck the whole 
game, but with you it is difiEerent. I don't know 
what I have done, but I am sorry. I bop« 
you'll forgive me.* 

"Your assurance is amusing, to say the 

"But I am sure. I know this quarrel ia 
something we'll laugh over. You keep for* 
getting that we are going to be married some* 

A new light came into Barbara's eyes. 
"You forget that my consent may be nece$» 
saiy," she said. 

"You will be perfectly willing when the time 


comes. I am still in the fight and eventually 
you will come to my way of thinking/' 

"Oh! I see it now/' said Barbara, and her 
blood was up. ''You mean to force me to it- 
What you did for father—" 

Brewster glowered at her, thinking that he 
had misunderstood. "What do you mean?" 
he said. 

"He has told me all about that wretched 
bank business. But poor father thought you 
quite disinterested. He did not see the little 
game behind your melodrama. He would have 
torn up your check on the instant if he had 
suspected you were trying to buy his daughter." 

"Does* your father believe that?" asked 

"No, but I see it all now. His persistence 
and yours — you were not slow to grasp the 
opportunity he offered." 

"Stop, Miss Drew," Monty commanded. 
His voice had changed and she had never 
before seen that look in his eyes. "You need 
have no fear that I will trouble you agaioe 




A typographical error in one of the papers 
caused no end of amusement to every one 
except Monty and Miss Drew. The headlines 
had announced: "Magnificent ball to be giveti 
Miss Drew by her Finance," and the "Little 
Sons of the Rich" wondered why Monty did not 
see the humor of it. 

"He has too bad an attack to see anything 
but the lady," said Harrison one evening when 
the "Sons" were gathered for an old-time 
supper party. 

"It's always the way," commented the 
philosophical Bragdon. "When you lose your 
heart your sense of humor goes too. Engaged 
couples couldn't do such ridiculous stunts if 
they had the least particle of it left." 

"Well if Monty Brewster is still in love with 
Miss Drew he takes a mighty poor way of 
showing it." "Subway ' Smith's remark fell 
like a bombshell. The thought had come to 
everyone, but no one had been given the 
courage to "tter it. For them Brewster's 



silence on the subject since the DeMille dinner 
seemed to have something ominous behind it. 

"Ifs probably only a lover's quarrel," said 
Bragdon. But further comment was cut short 
t)y the entrance of Monty himself, and they 
took their places at table. 

Before the evening came to an end they were 
in possession of many astonishing details in 
connection with the coming ball. Monty did 
not say that it was to be given for Miss Drew 
and her name was conspicuously absent from 
his descriptions. As he unfolded his plans 
even the "Little Sons," who were imaginative 
by instinct and reckless on principle, could not 
be quite acquiescent. 

"Nopper" Harrison solemnly expressed the 
opinion that the ball would cost Brewster at 
least Jii25,ooo. The "Little Sons" looked at 
one another in consternation, while Brewster's 
indifference expressed itself in an unflatter- 
ing comment upon his friend's vulgarity. 
"Good Lord, Nopper," he added; "you would 
speculate about the price of gloves for your 

Harrison resented the taunt. "It would be 
much less vulgar to do that, Monty, saving 
your presence, than to force your millions down 
everyone's throat" 


"Well, they swallow them, I've noticed/' 
retorted Brewster, "as though they were 

Pettingill interrupted grandiloquently. "My 
friends and gentlemen!" 

"Which is which?" asked Van Winkle, 

But the artist was in the saddle. "Permit 
me to present you to the boy Croesus — the 
only one extant. His marbles are plunks and 
his kites are made of fifty-dollar notes. He 
feeds upon coupons a la Newburgh, and his 
champagne is liquid golden eagles. Look at 
him, gentlemen, while you can, and watch him 
while he spends thirteen thousand dollars for 

"With a Viennese orchestra for twenty-nine 
thousand!" added Bragdon. "And yet they 
maintain that silence is golden.*' 

"And three singers to divide twelve thou* 
sand among themselves! That's absolutely 
criminal," cried Van Winkle. "Over in Ger* 
many they'd sing a month for half that 

"Six hundred guests to feed — total cost of 
not less than forty thousand dollars," groaned 
"Nopper," dolefully. 

"And there aren't six hundred in towiit*' 


lamented "Subway" Smith. "All that glory 
wasted on two hundred rank outsiders.'* 

"You men are borrowing a lot of trouble,'* 
yawned Brewster with a gallant e£fort to seem 
bored. "All I ask of you is to come to the 
party and put up a good imitation of having the 
time of your life. Between you and me I'd 
rather be caught at Huyler's drinking ice 
cream soda than giving this thing. But — '* 

"That's what we want to know, but what?** 
and "Subway" leaned forward eagerly. 

"But/' continued Monty, "I am in for it 
now, and it is going to be a ball that is a 

Nevertheless the optimistic Brewster could 
not find the courage to tell Peggy of these 
picturesque extravagances. To satisfy her 
curiosity he blandly informed her that he was 
getting off much more cheaply than he had 
expected. He laughingly denounced as untrue 
the stories that had come to her from outside 
sources. And before his convincing assertions 
< that reports were ridiculously exaggerated, the 
troubled expression in the girl's eyes dis- 

"I must seem a fool," groaned Monty, as he 
left the house after one of tHese explanlatory 
trials, "but what will she think of me toward 


the end of the year when I am really in 
harness." He found it hard to control the 
desire to be straight with Peggy and tell 
her the story of his mad race in pursuit of 

Preparations for the ball went on steadily, 
and in a dull winter it had its color value for 
society. It was to be a Spanish costume-ball, 
and at many tea-tables the talk of it was a 
god-send. Sarcastic as it frequently was on 
the question of Monty's extravagance, there 
was a splendor about the Aladdin-like enter- 
tainment which had a charm. Beneath the 
outward disapproval there was a secret admira- 
tion of the superb nerve of the man. And 
there was little reluctance to help him in the 
wild career he had chosen. It was so easy to 
go with him to the edge of the precipice and 
let him take the plunge alone. Only the echo 
of the criticism reached Brewster, for he had 
silenced Harrison with work and Pettingill with 
opportunities. It troubled him little, as he was 
engaged in jotting down items that swelled 
the profit side of his ledger account enormously. 
The ball was bound to give him* a good lead in 
the race once more, despite the heavy handi- 
cap the Stock Exchange had imposed. The 
"Little Soas** took off their coats and helped 


Pettingill in the work of preparation. He 
found them quite superfluous, for their ideas 
never agreed and each man bad a way of 
preferring his own suggestion. To Brewster's 
chagrin they were united in the effort to curb 
his extravagance. 

'He'll be giving automobiles and ropes of 
pearls for favors if we don't stop him," said 
"Subway" Smith, after Monty had ordered a 
vintage champagne to be served during the 
entire evening. "Give them two glasses first, 
if you like, and then they won't mind if they 
have cider the rest of the night" 

"Monty is plain dotty," chimed in Bragdon, 
"and the pace is beginning to tell on him." 

As a matter of fact the pace was beginning 
to tell on Brewster. Work and worry were 
plainly having an effect on his health. His 
color was bad, his eyes were losing their lustre, 
and there was a listlessness in his actions that 
even determined effort could not conceal from 
his friends. Little fits of fever annoyed him 
occasionally and he admitted that he did not 
feel quite right. 

"Something is wrong somewhere," he said, 
ruefully, "and my whole system seems ready 
to stop work through sympathy." 

Suddenly there was a mighty check to the 





preparations. Two days before the date set for | 

the ball everything came to a standstill and the ! 

managers sank back in perplexity and conster- ^ 

nation. Monty Brewster was critically ilK | 

Appendicitis, the doctors called it, and an 
operation was imperative. 

*Thank heaven it's fashionable/' laughed 
Monty, who showed no fear of the prospect. 
"How ridiculous if it had been the mumps, 
or if the newspapers had said, 'On account of 
the whooping-cough, Mr. Brewster did not 
attend his ball.' " 

"You don't mean to say — the ball is off, of 
course," and Harrison was really alarmed. 

"Not a bit of it, Nopper," said Monty. 
"It's what I've been wanting all along. You 
chaps do the handshaking atid I stay at home/* 

There was an immediate council of war when 
this piece of news was announced, and the 
"Little Sons" were unanimous in favor of 
recalling the invitations and declaring the party 
off. At first Monty was obdurate, but when 
some one suggested that he could give the ball 
later on, after he was well, he relented. The 
opportunity to double the cost by giving two 
parties was not to be ignored. 

'Call it ofiE, then, but say that it is only 



A great rushing to and fro resulted In the 
cancelling of contracts, the recalling of invita* 
tions, the settling of accounts, with the most 
loyal effort to save as much as possible from 
the wreckage. Harrison and his associates, 
almost frantic with fear for Brewster's life, 
managed to perform wonders in the few hours 
of grace. Gardner, with rare foresight, saw 
that the Viennese orchestra would prove a dead 
loss. He suggested the possibility of a concert 
tour through the country, covering several 
weeks, and Monty, too ill to care one way or 
the other, authorized him to carry out the plan 
if it seemed feasible. 

To Monty, fearless and less disturbed than 
any other member of his circle, appendicitis 
seemed as inevitable as vaccination. 

''The appendix is becoming an important 
feature in the Book of Life,*' he once told 

Peggy Gray. 

He refused to go to a hospital, but pathetic* 
ally begged to be taken to his old rooms at 
Mrs. Gray's. 

With all the unhappy loneliness of a sick 
boy, he craved the care and companionship 
of those who seemed a part of his own. Dr 
Lotless had them transform a small bedchamber 
into a model operating room and Monty took 


no small satisfaction in the thought that if 
he was to be denied the privilege of spend- 
ing money for several weeks, he would at least 
make his illness as expensive as possible. A 
consultation of eminent surgeons was called, 
but true to his colors, Brewster installed Dr. 
Lotless, a "Little Son," as his house surgeon. 
Monty grimly bore the pain and suffering and 
submitted to the operation which alone could 
save his life. Then came the struggle, then 
the promise of victory and then the quiet days 
of convalescence. In the little room where he 
bad dreamed his boyish dreams and suffered 
his boyish sorrows, he struggled against death 
and gradually emerged from the mists of lassi- 
tude. He found it harder than he had thought 
to come back to life. The burden of it all 
seemed heavy. The trained nurses found that 
some more powerful stimulant than the med- 
icine was needed to awaken his ambition, and 
they discovered it at last in Peggy. 

*'Child,'* he said to her the first time she 
was permitted to see him, and his eyes had 
lights in them; "do you know, this isn't such 
a bad old world after all. Sometimes as I've 
lain here, it has looked twisted and queer. 
But there are things that straighten it out. 
To-day I feel as though I had a place In ^1 


though I cottld fight things and win ouL 
What do you think, Peggy? Do you suppose 
there is something that I could do? You know 
what I mean — something that some one else 
would not do a thousand times better." 

But Peggy, to whom this chastened mood 
in Monty was infinitely pathetic, would not 
let him talk. She soothed him and cheered 
him and touched his hair with her cool hands. 
And then she left him to think and brood 
and dream. 

It was many da3rs before his turbulent mind 
drifted to the subject of money, but suddenly 
he found himself hoping that the surgeons 
would be gene jus with their charges. He 
almost suffered a relapse when Lotless, visibly 
distressed, informed him that the total amount 
would reach three thousand dollars. 

"And what is the additional charge for the 
operation?** asked Monty, unwilling to accept 
such unwarranted favors. 

"It*s included in the three thousand," said 
Lotless. They knew you were my friend and 
ft was professional etiquette to help keep down 

For days Brewster remained at Mrs. Gray's, 
happy in its restfulness, serene under the charm 
of Peggy's presence, and satisfied to be hope* 


lessly. behind in his daily expense account 
The interest shown by the inquiries at the 
house and the anxiety of his friends were 
soothing to the profligate. It gave him back 
a little of his lost self-respect. The doc- 
tors finally decided that he would best recu* 
perate in Florida, and advised a month at 
least in the warmth. He leaped at the propo* 
sition, but took the law into his own hands by 
ordering General Manager Harrison to rent a 
place, and insisting that he needed the com* 
panionship of Peggy and Mrs. Gray. 

"How soon can I get back to work, Doctor?" 
demanded Monty, the day before the special 
train was to carry him south. He was begin* 
ning to see the dark side of this enforced idle* 
ness. His blood again was tingling with the 
desire to be back in the harness of a spend* 

"To work?" laughed the physician. "And 
what is your occupation, pray?" 

"Making other people rich,** responded 
Brewster, soberly. 

'Well, aren't you satisfied with what you 
have done for me? If you are as charitable as 
that you must be still pretty sick. Be careful* 
and you may be on your feet again in five or 
six weeks. *' 


Harrison came in as Lotless left Pegfy 
smiled at him from the window. She had been 
reading aloud from a novel so garrulous that it 
fairly cried aloud for interruptions. 

"Now, Nopper, what became of the ball 
I was going to give?" demanded Monty, a 
troubled look in his eyes. 

••Why, we called it o£E.*'said •'Nopper,'* in 

••Don't you remember, Monty?'* asked 
Peggy, looking up quickly, and wondering if 
his mind had gone trailing off. 

•'I know we didn't give it, of course; but 
what date did you hit upon?" 

"We didn't postpone it at all," said •'Nop- 
per." How could we? We didn't know whether 
— I mean, it wouldn't have been quite right 
to do that sort of thing." 

•*I understand. Well,' what has become of 
the orchestra, and the flowers, and all that?" 

"The orchestra is gallivanting around the 
country, quarreling with itself and everybody 
else, and driving poor Gardner to the insane 
asylum. The flowers have lost their bloom 
long ago." 

"Well, we'll get together, Nopper, and try 
to have the ball at mid-Lent. I think I'll be 
well by that time." 


Peggy looked appealingly at Harrison for 
guidance, but to him silence seemed the better 
part of valor, and he went off wondering if 
the illness had completely carried away 
Monty *8 reason. 



it was the cottage of a New York millionaire 
which had fallen to Brewster. The owner had, 
for the time, preferred Italy to St. Augustine, 
and left his estate, which was well located and 
lavishly equipped, in the hands of his friends. 
Brewster's lease covered three months, at a 
fabulous rate per month. With Joe Bragdon 
installed as manager-in-chief, his establishment 
was tranferred bodily from New York, and the 
rooms were soop as comfortable as their grand- 
eur would permit. Brewster was not allowed 
to take advantage of his horses and the new 
automobile which preceded him from NewYork, 
but to his guests they offered unlimited oppor- 
tunities. "Nopper" Harrison had remained 
in the north to renew arrangements for the 
now hated ball and to look after the advance 
details of the yacht cruise. Dr. Lotless 
and his sister, with "Subway" Smith and 
the Grays, made up Brewster's party. Lot- 
less dampened Monty's spirits by relentlessly 

putting him on rigid diet, with most dis- 



couraging restrictions upon his conduct. The 
period of convalescence was to be an exceed- 
ingly trying one for the invalid. At first he 
was kept in doors, and the hours were whiled 
away by playing cards. But Monty consid- 
ered "bridge" the "pons asinorum," and 
preferred to play piquet with Peggy. It was 
one of these games that the girl interrupted 
with a question that had troubled her for 
many days. "Monty," she said, and she 
found it much more difficult than when she had 
rehearsed the scene in the silence of her walks; 
"I've heard a rumor that Miss Drew and her 
mother have taken rooms at the hotel. 
Wouldn't it be pleasanter to have them here?" 

A heavy gloom settled upon Brfewster's face, 
and the girl's heart dropped like lead. She 
had puzzled over the estrangement, and won- 
dered if by any effort of her own things could 
be set right. At times she had had flashing 
hopes that it did not mean as much to Monty 
as she had thought. But down underneath, 
the fear that he was unhappy seemed the only 
certain thing in life. She felt that she must 
make sure. And together with the very human 
desire to know the worst, was the puritanical 
impulse to bring it about. 

' 'You forget that this is the last place they 


would care to invade." And in Brewster's 
face Peggy seemed to read that for her martyr- 
dom was the only wear. Bravely she put it on. 

"Monty, I forget nothing that I really know. 
But this is a case in which you are quite wrong. 
Where is your sporting blood? You have 
never fought a losing fight before, and you 
can't do it now. You have lost your nerve, 
Monty. Don't you see that this is the time 
for an aggressive campaign?" Somehow she 
was not saying things at all as she had planned 
to say them. And his gloom weighed heavily 
upon her. "You don't mind, do you, Monty," 
she added, more softly, "this sort of thing from 
me? I know I ought not to interfere, but I've 
known you so long. And I hate to see things 
twisted by a very little mistake." 

But Monty did mind enormously. He had 
no desire to talk about the thing anyway, and 
Peggy's anxiety to marry him off seemed a bit 
unnecessary. Manifestly her own interest in 
him was of the coldest. From out of the 
gloom he looked at her somewhat sullenly. 
For the moment she was thinking only of his 
pain, and her face said nothing. 

"Peggy," he exclaimed, finally, resenting 
the necessity of answering her, "you don't in 
the least know what you are talking about. It 


is not a fit of anger on Barbara Drew's part* 
It is a serious conviction." 

"A conviction which can be changed/' the 
girl broke in. 

"Not at all." Brewster took it up. "She 
has no faith in me. She thinks Fm an ass. " 

"Perhaps she's right," she exclaimed, a little 
hot. "Perhaps you have never discovered that 
girls say rhany things to hide their emotions. 
Perhaps you don't realize what feverish, ex" 
clamatory, foolish things girls are. They don't 
know how to be honest with the men they 
love, and they wouldn't if they did. You ar€ 
little short of an idiot, Monty Brewster, if you 
believed the things she said rather than the 
things she looked." 

And Peggy, fiery and determined and defi- 
antly unhappy, threw dow»^ her cards and 
escaped so that she might not prove herself 
tearfully feminine. She left Brewster still 
heavily enveloped in melancholy; but she left 
him puzzled. He began to wonder if Barbara 
Drew did have something in the back of her 
mind. Then he found his thoughts wandering 
off toward Peggy and her defiance. He had 
only twice before seen her in that mood, and 
he liked it. He remembered how she had lost 
her temper once when she was fifteen, and 


hated a girl he admired. Suddenly he laughed 
aloud at the thought of the fierce little picture 
she had made, and the gloom, which had been 
so sedulously cultivated, was dissipated in a 
moment. The laugh surprised the man who 
brought in some letters. One of them was 
from **Nopper" Harrison, and gave him all 
the private news. The ball was to be given at 
mid-Lent, which arrived toward the end of 
March, and negotiations were well under way 
for the chartering of the "Flitter," the steam- 
yacht belonging to Reginald Brown, late of 
Brown & Brown. 

The letter made Brewster chafe under the' 
bonds of inaction. His affairs were getting 
into a discouraging state. The illness was cer- 
tain to entail a loss of more than $50,000 to his 
business. His only consolation came through 
Harrison's synopsis of the reports from Gard- 
ner, who was managing the brief American tour 
of the Viennese orchestra. Quarrels and dissen- 
sions were becoming every-day embarrass- 
ments, and the venture was an utt^r failure 
from a financial point of view. Broken con- 
tracts and lawsuits were turning the tour into 
one continuous round of losses, and poor 
Gardner was on the point of despair. From the 
beginning, apparently, the concerts had been 


marked for disaster. Public indifference had 
aroused the scorn of the irascible members of 
the orchestra, and there was imminent danger 
of a collapse in the organization. Gardner 
lived in constant fear that his troop of quarrel- 
some Hungarians would finish their tour sud- 
denly in a pitched battle with daggers and 
steins. Brewster smiled at the thought of the 
practical Gardner trying to smooth down the 
electric emotions of these musicians. 

A few days later Mrs. Prentiss Drew and Miss 
Drew registered at the Ponce de Leon, and 
there was much speculation upon the chances 
for a reconciliation. Monty, however, main- 
tained a strict silence on the subject, and 
refused to satisfy the curiosity of his friends. 
Mrs. Drew had brought down a small crowd, 
including two pretty Kentucky girls and a 
young Chicago millionaire. She lived well and 
sensibly, and with none of the extravagance 
that characterized the cottage. Yet it was 
inevitable that Brewster's guests should see 
hers and join some of their riding parties. 
Monty pleaded that he was not well enough to 
be in these evcursions, but neither he nor Bar- 
bara cared to over-emphasize their estrange- 

Peggy Gray was in despair over Monty's atti- 


tude. She had become convinced that behind 
his pride he was cherishing a secret longing for 
Barbara. Yet she could not see how the walls 
were to be broken down if he maintained this 
icy reserve. She was sure that the masterful 
tone was the one to win with a girl like that^ 
but evidently Monty would not accept advice. 
That he was mistaken about Barbara's feeling 
she did not doubt for a moment, and she saw 
things going hopelessly wrong for want of a 
word. There were times when she let herself 
dream of possibilities, but they always ended 
by seeming too impossible. She cared too much 
to make the attairment of her vision seem sim- 
ple. She cared too much to be sure of any- 

At moments she fancied that she might say 
a word to Miss Drew which would straighten 
things out. But there was something about 
her which held her off. Even now that they 
were thrown together more or less she could 
not get beyond a certain barrier. It was not 
until a sunny day when she had accepted Bar- 
bara's invitation to drive that things seemed to 
go more easily. For the first time she felt the 
charm of the girl, and for the first time Barbara 
seemed unreservedly friendly. It was a quiet 
drive they were taking through the woods 


and out along the beach, and somehow in 
the open air things simplified themselves. 
Finally, in the softness and the idle warmth, 
even an allusion to Monty, whose name usually 
meant an embarrassing change of subject, 
began to seem possible. It was inevitable that 
Peggy should bring it in; for with her a ques- 
tion of tact was never allowed to dominate 
when things of moment were at stake. She 
cowered b^^ore the plunge, but she took it 

"The doctor says Monty may go out driving 
tomorrow," she began. **Isn't that fine?" 

Barbara's only response was to touch her 
pony a little too sharply with the whip. Peggy 
went on as if unconscious of the challenge. 

"He has been bored to death, poor fellow, 
in the house all this time, and — " 

"Miss Gray, please do not mention Mr. Brew- 
ster's name to me again," interrupted Barbara, 
with a contraction of the eyebrows. But Peggy 
was seized with a spirit of defiance and plunged 
recklessly on. 

"What is the use. Miss Drew, of taking an 
attitude like that? I know the situation pretty 
well, and I can't believe that either Monty or 
you has lost in a w^ek a feelioc that was so 
deep-seated. I know Mdnty muck too well to 


think that he would change so easily." Peggy 
still lived largely in her ideals. "And you are 
too fine a thing not to have suffered under 
this misunderstanding. It seems as if a very 
small word would set you both straight." 

Barbara drew herself up and kept her eyes 
on the road which lay white and gleaming in 
the sun. "I have not the least desire to be 
set straight." And she was never more serious. 

"But it was only a few weeks ago tiiat you 
were engaged." 

"I am sorry," answered Barbara, '*that it 
should have been talked about so much. Mr. 
Brewster did ask me to marry him, but I never 
accepted. In fact, it was only his persistence 
that made me consider the matter at all. I 
did think about it. I confess that I rather 
liked him. But it was not long before I found 
him out." 

"What do you mean?" And there was 
a flash in Peggy's eyes. "What has he 

"To my certain knowledge he has spent more 
than four hundred thousand dollars since last 
September. That is something, is it not?" 
Miss Drew said, in her slow, cool voice, and 
even Peggy's loyalty admitted some justifica- 
tion in the criticism. 


"Generosity has ceased to be a virtue then?" 
she asked coldly. 

"Generosity!" exclaimed Barbara, sharply. 
"It's sheer idiocy. Haven't you heard the 
things people are saying? They are calling 
him a fool, and in the clubs they are betting 
that he will be a pauper within a year." 

"Yet they charitably help him to spend his 
money. And I have noticed that even worldly 
mammas find him eligible." The comment 
was not without its caustic side. 

"That was months ago, my deir," pretested 
Barbara, calmly. **When he spoke to me — 
he told me it would be impossible for him co 
marry within a year. And don't you see that 
a year may make him an abject beggar?" 

"Naturally anything is preferable to a 
beggar," came in Peggy's clear, soft voice. 

Barbara hesitated only a moment. 

"Well, you must admit, Miss Gray, that it 
shows a shameful lack of character. How 
could any girl be happy with a man like that? 
And, after all, one must look out for one's own 

"Undoubtedly," replied Peggy, but many 
thoughts were dashing through her brain. 

"Shall we turn back to the cottage?" she 
said, after an awkward silence. 


"You certainly don't approve of Mr. Brew- 
ster's conduct?" Barbara did not like to be 
placed in the wrong, and felt that she must 
endeavor to justify herself. "He is the most 
reckless of spendthrifts, we know, and he 
probably indulges in even less respectable 

Peggy was not tall, but she carried her head 
at this moment as though she were in the habit 
of looking down on the world. 

"Aren't you going a little too far, Miss 
Drew?" she asked placidly. 

"It is not only New York that laughs over 
his Quixotic transactions," Barbara persisted. 
"Mr. Hampton, our guest from Chicago, says 
the stories are worse out there than they are in 
the east." 

"It is a pity that Monty's illness should have 
made him so weak," said Peggy quietly, as 
they turned in through the great iron gates, 
and Barbara was not slow to see the point. 



Brewster was comparatively well and strong 
when he returned to New York in March. 
His illness had interfered extensively with his 
plan of campaign and it was imperative that he 
redouble his efforts, notwithstanding the man- 
ifest dismay of his friends. His first act was 
to call upon Grant & Ripley, from whom he 
hoped to learn what Swearengen Jones thought 
of his methods. The lawyers had heard no 
complaint from Montana, and advised him to 
continue as he had begun, assuring him, as far 
as they could, that Jones would not prove 

An exchange of telegrams just before his 
operation had renewed Monty's dread of his 
eccentric mentor. 

New York, Jan. 6, 19 — 


Butte, Mont. 
How about having my life insured? Would it violate 

MoirM^maY Bacwtraa. 




New York. 
Seems to me your life would become an asset in that 
case. Can you dispose of it before September 33d? 


Butte, Mont. 
On the contrary I think life will be a debt by that 
time. Montgomery B&ewstie. 


New York. 
If you feel that way about it, I advise you to take out 
a $500 policy. Joms. 


Butte, Mont 
Do you think that amount would cover funeral 
expenses? Montgomery Brewster. 


New York. 
You won't be caring about expenses if it comes to that. 


The invitations for the second ball had been 
out for some time and the preparations were 
nearly complete when Brewster arrived upon 
the scene of festivity. It did not surprise him 
that several old-time friends should hunt him 
up and protest vigorously against the course he 


was pursuing. Nor did it surprise him when 
he found that his presence was not as essential 
to the success of some other affair as it had 
once been. He was not greeted as cordially as 
before, and he grimly wondered how many of 
his friends would stand true to the end. The 
uncertainty made him turn more and more 
often to the unquestioned loyalty of Peggy 
Gray, and her little library saw him more fre- 
quently than for months. 

Much as he had dreaded the pretentious and 
resplendent ball, it was useful to him in one 
way at least. The "profit" side of his ledger 
account was enlarged and in that there was 
room for secret satisfaction. The Viennese 
orchestra straggled into New York, headed 
by Elon Gardner, a physical wreck, in time to 
make a harmonious farewell appearance behind 
Brewster's palms, which caused his guests to 
wonder why the American public could not 
appreciate the real thing. A careful summing 
up of the exf>enses and receipts proved that 
the tour had been a bonanza for Brewster. The 
net loss was a trifle more than ^56,000. When 
this story becanie known about town, everybody 
laughed pityingly, and poor Gardner was almost 
in tears when he tried to explain the disaster 
to the man who lost the money. But Monty's 


tense of humor, sin^larly enough, H^ not 
desert him on this trying occasron. 

iEsthetically the ball proved to be the 
talk of more than one season. Pettingill had 
justified his desire for authority and made 
a name which would last. He had taken mat- 
ters into his own hands while Brewster was 
in Florida, and changed the period from the 
Spain of Velasquez to France and Louis 
Quinze. After the cards were out he remem- 
bered, to his consternation, that the favors 
purchased for the Spanish ball would be 
entirely inappropriate for the French one. He 
wired Brewster at once of this misfortune, and 
was astonished at the nonchalance of his reply. 
"But then Monty always was a good sort," he 
thought, with a glow of affection. The new 
plan was more costly than the old, for it was 
no simple matter to build a Versailles suite at 
Sherry's. Pettingill was no imitator, but he 
created an effect which was superbly in keep- 
ing with the period he had chosen. Against it 
the rich costumes, with their accompaniment of 
wigs and powdered hair, shone out resplen- 
dent. With great difficulty the artist had 
secured for Monty a costume in white satin 
and gold brocade, which might once have 
tdorned the person of Louis himself. U 


made him feel like a popinjay, and it was with 
infinite relief that he took it off an hour or so 
after dawn. He knew that things had gone 
well, that even Mrs. Dan was satisfied; but the 
whole affair made him heartsick. Behind the 
compliments lavished upon him he detected a 
note of irony, which revealed the laughter 
that went on behind his back. He had not 
realized how much it would hurt. "For two 
cents," he thought, 'Td give up the game and 
be satisfied with what's left." But he reflected 
that such a course would offer no chance ta 
redeem himself. Once again he ^took up the 
challenge and determined to win out. "Then," 
he thought exultantly, "I'll make them feel 
this a bit." 

He longed for the time when he could take 
his few friends with him and sail away to the 
Mediterranean to escape t^t eyes and tongues 
of New York. Impatiently he urged Har- 
rison to complete the arrangements, so that 
they could start at once. But Harrison's 
^ace was not untroubled when he made his 
report All the preliminary details had been 
perfected. He had taken the "Flitter" for 
four months, and it was being overhauled and 
put into condition for the voyage. It had been 
Brown's special pride, but at his death it went 


to heirs who were ready and eager to rent it to 
the highest bidder. It would not have been 
easy to find a handsomer yacht in New York 
waters. A picked crew of ^ity men were 
under command of Captain Abner Perry. The 
steward was a famous manager and could be 
relied upon to sto^k the larder in princely 
fashion. The boat would be in readiness to 
sail by the tenth of April. 

"I think you are going in too heavily, 
Monty, '^ protested Harrison, twisting his fin- 
gersjiervously. *'l can't for my life figure how 
you can get out for less than a fortune, if we 
do everything you have in mind. Wouldn't 
it be better to pull up a bit? This looks like 
sheer madness. You won't have a dollar, 
Monty — honestly you won't'' 

**It's not in me to save money, Nopper, '^ut 
if you can pull out a few dollars for yourself I 
shall not object." 

"You told me that once before, Monty," 
said Harrison* as be walked to the window. 
When he resolutely turned back again to 
Brewster his face was white, but there was 
a look of determination around the mouth. 

"Monty, I've got to give up this job," be 
said, huskily. Brewster looked up quickl|f« 

"What do you mean, Nopper?" 



IVe got to leavei that's all/' said Harrison, 
standing stiff and straight and looking over 
Brewster's head 

"Good Lord, Nopper, I can't have that. 
You must not desert the ship. What's the 
matter, old chap? You're as white as a ghost. 
What is it?" Monty was standing now and his 
hands were on Harrison's shoulders, but 
before the intensity of his look, his friend's 
eyes fell helplessly. 

**The truth is, Monty, I've taken some of 
your money and IVe lost it. That's the reason 
I — I can't stay on. I have betrayed your con« 
fidence. * 

"Tell me about it,** and Monty was perhaps 
more uncomfortable than his friend. "I don't 

"You believed too much Jn me, Mon^" 
You see, I thought I was doing you a favor. 
You were spending so much and getting noth* 
ing in return, and I thought 1 saw a chance to 
help you out. It went wrong, that's all, and 
before I could let go of the stock sixty thou- 
sand dollars of your money had gone. I can't 
replace it yet. But God knows I didn't mean 
to steal." 

"It's all right, Nopper. I see that you 
thought you were helping me. The money's 


gont and that ends lu xion't take it so hard, 
old boy," 

*'l knew you'd act this way, but it doesn't 
help matters. Some day 1 may be able to pay 
back the money I took, and I'm going to work 
until I do/' 

Brewster protested that he had no use for 
the money and begged him to retain the posi- 
tion of trust he had held. But Harrison had 
too much self-respect to care to be confronted 
daily with the man he had wronged. Gradu- 
ally Monty realized that ''Nopper" was pursu- 
ing the most manly course open to him, and 
gave up the effort to dissuade him. He 
insisted upon leaving New York, as there 
was no opportunity to redeem himself in the 

"I've made up my mind, Monty, to go out 
west, up in the mountains perhaps. There's 
no telling, I may stumble on a gold mine up 
there — and — well, that seems to be the only 
chance I have to restore what I have taken 
from you." 

"By Jove, Nopper, I have it!" cried Monty. 
"If you must go, I'll stake you in the bunt for 

In the end "Nopper" consented to follow 
Brewster's advice, and it was agreed that they 


should share equally all that resulted from his 
prospecting tour. Brewster "grub-staked" 
him for a year, and before the end of the week 
a new tenderfoot was on his way to the Rocky 



Harrison's departure left Brewster in sore 
straits. It forced him to settle down to the 
actual management of his own affairs. He 
was hot indolent, but this was not the kind oi 
work he cared to encourage. The private 
accounts he had kept revealed some appalling 
facts when he went over them carefully one 
morning at four o'clock, after an all-night ses- 
sion with the ledger. With infinite pains he 
had managed to rise to something over $450,000 
!n six months. But to his original million it 
had been necessary to add $58,550 which he 
had realized from Lumber and Fuel and some 
of his other "unfortunate" operations. At 
least $40,000 would come to him ultimately 
through the sale of furniture and other belong- 
ings, and then there would be something like 
$20,000 interest to consider. But luck had 
aided him in getting rid of his money. The 
bank failure had cost him $113,468.25, and 
•'Nopper** Harrison had helped him to the 
extent of $60,000. The reckless but deter^ 



mined effort to give a ball had cost $30,000. 
What he had lost during his illness had been 
pretty well offset by the unlucky concert tour. 
The Florida trip, including medical attention, 
the cottage and living expenses, had entailed 
the expenditure of $18,500, and his princely 
dinners and theater parties had footed up 
$31,000. Taking all the facts into considera- 
tion, he felt that he had done rather well as far 
as he had gone, but the hardest part of the 
undertaking was yet to come. He was still in 
possession of an enormous sum which must 
disappear before September 23d. About 
$40,000 had already been expended in the 
yachting project. 

He determined to begin at once a systematic 
campaign of extinction. It had been his inten- 
tion before sailing to dispose of many house- 
hold articles, either by sale or gift. As he did 
not expect to return to New York before the 
latter part of August, this would minimize the 
struggles of the last month. But the prospect- 
ive "profit" to be acquired from keeping his 
apartment open was not to be pverlooked. He 
could easily count upon a generous sum for 
salaries and running expenses. Once on the 
other side of the Atlantic, he hoped that new 
opportunities for extravagance would present 


themselves, and he fancied he could reave 
the final settlement of his affairs for the last 
month. As the day for sailing approached, 
the world again seemed bright to this most 
mercenary of spendthrifts. 

A. farewell consultation with his attorneys 
proved encouraging, for to them his chances to 
win the extraordinary contest seemed of the 
best. He was in high spirits as he left them, 
exhilarated by the sensation that the world lay 
before him. In the elevator he encountered 
Colonel Prentiss Drew. On both sides the 
meeting was not without its difficulties. The 
Colonel had been dazed by the inexplicable 
situation between Monty and his daughter, 
whose involutions he found hard to understand. 
Her summary of the effort she had made to 
effect a reconciliation, after hearing the story 
of the bank, was rather vague. She had done 
her utmost, she said, to be nice to him and 
make him feel that she appreciated his gener- 
osity, but he took it in the most disagreeable 
fashion. Colonel Drew knew that things were 
somehow wrong; but he was too strongly an 
American father to interfere in a matter of the 
affections. It distressed him, for he had a 
liking for Monty, apd Barbara's ''society 
judgments,'' as he called them, had no weighs 


with him. When he found himself confronted 
with Brewster in the elevator, the old warmth 
revived and the old hope that the quarrel 
might have an end. His greeting was cheery. 

"You have not forgotten, Brewster," he said, 
as they shook hands, "that you have a dollar 
or two with us?*' 

"No," said Monty, "not exactly And I 
shall be calling upon you for some of it very 
soon. Tm off on Thursday for a cruise in the 

"I've heard something of it." They had 
reached the main floor and Colonel Drew had 
drawn his companion out of the crowd into the 
rotunda. "The money is at your disposal at 
any moment But aren't you setting a pretty 
lively pace, my boy? You know I've always 
liked you, and I knew your grandfather rather 
well. He was a good old chap, Monty, and 
he would hate to see you make ducks and 
drakes of his fortune." 

There was something in the Colonel's man- 
ner that softened Brewster, much as he hated 
to take a reproof from Barbara's father. Once 
again he was tempted to tell the truth, but he 
pulled himself up in time. "It's a funny old 
world, Colonel," he said; "and sometimes 
ette's nearest friend is a straager. I know I 


seem a fool; but, after all, why isn't it good 
philosophy to make the most of a holiday and 
then settle back to work?" 

"That is all very well, Monty," and Colonel 
Drew was entirely serious; "but the work is a 
hundred times harder after you have played 
to the limit. You'll find that you are way 
beyond it. It's no joke getting back into the 

"Perhaps you are right, Colonel, but at least 
I shall have something to look back upon — 
even if the worst comes. " And Monty instinct- 
ively straightened his shoulders. 

They turned to leave the building, and the 
Colonel had a moment of weakness. 

"Do you knowj Monty," he said, "my 
daughter is awfully cut up about this business. 
She is plucky and tries not to show it, but after 
all a gir! doesn't get over that sort of thing all 
in a moment. I am not saying" — it seemed nec- 
essary to recede a step — "that it would be an 
easy matter to patch up. But I like you, 
Monty, and if any man could do it, you can." 

"Colonel, I wish I might," and Brewster 
found that he did not hesitate. "For your 
sake I very much wish the situation were as 
simple as it seems. But there are some things 
a man can't forget, and — ^well — Barbara has 


shown in Pl dozen ways that she has no faith 

in me." 

"Well, I've got faith in you, and a lot of it 
Take care of yourself, and when you get back 
you can count on me. Good-bye. ' * 

On Thursday morning the "Flitter" steamed 
off down the bay, and the flight of the prodigal 
grandson was on. No swifter, cleaner* hand- 
somer boat ever sailed out of the harbor of 
New York, and it was a merry crowd that she 
carried out to sea. Brewster's guests num* 
bered twenty-five, and they brought with them 
a liberal supply of maids, valets, and luggage 
It was not until many weeks later that he read 
the vivid descriptions of the weighing of the 
anchor which were printed in the New York 
papers, but by that time h^ was impervious to 
their ridicule. 

On deck, watching the rugged silhouette of 
the city disappear into the mists, were Dan 
DeMille and Mrs. Dan, Peggy Gray, "Rip" 
Van Winkle, Reginald Vanderpool, Joe Brag- 
don, Dr. Lotless and his sister Isabel, Mr and 
Mrs. Valentine — the official chaperon — and 
their daughter Mary, "Subway" Smith, Pau^ 
Pettingill, and some others hardly less dis- 
tinguished. As Monty looked over the eager 
crowd, he recognized with a peculiar clow tlM9 


here were represented his best and truest 
friendships. The loyalty of these companions 
had been tested, and he knew that they would 
stand by him through everything. 

There was no little surprise wnen it was 
learned that Dan DeMille was really to sail. 
Many of the idle voyagers ventured the opinion 
that he would try to desert the boat in mid* 
ocean if he saw a chance to get back to hit 
club on a west-bound steamer. But DeMille, 
big, indolent, and indifferent, smiled care- 
lessly, and hoped he wouldn't bother anybody 
if he "stuck to the ship" until the end. 

For a time the sea and the sky and the talk 
of the crowd were enough for the joy of living. 
But after a few peaceful days there was a lull, 
and it was then that Monty gained the nick- 
name of Aladdin, which clung to him. From 
somewhere, from the hold or the rigging or 
from under the sea, he brought forth four 
darkies from the south who strummed guitars 
and sang ragtime melodies. More than once 
during the voyage they were useful. 

"Peggy," said Brewster one day, whfen the 
sky was particularly clear and things were 
quiet on deck, **on the whole I prefer this to 
crossing the North River oi? a ferry. I rather 
like it, don't you?" 


"'It seems like a dream/' she cried, her eyes 
bright, her hair blowing in the wind. 

"And, Peggy, do yqu know what I tucked 
away in a chest down in my cabin? A lot of 
books that you like — some from the old garret. 
I*ve saved them to read on rainy days." 

Peggy did not speak, but the blood began to 
creep into her face and she looked wistfully 
across the water Then she smiled. 

•*I didn't know you could save anything,** 
she said, weakly. 

"Come now, Peggy, that is too much.'* 

"I didn't mean to hurt you. But you must 
not forget, Monty, that there are other years 
to follow this one. Do you know what I 

** Peggy, dear, please don't lecture me," he 
begged, so piteously that she could not be 

•The class is dismissed for to-day, Monty," 
she said, airily. "But the professor knows his 
duty and won't let you off so easily next time." 




At Gibraltar, Monty was banded an ominous* 
looking cablegram which he opened trem- 


Private Yacht Flitter, Gibraltar. 
There is an agitation to declare for free silver. Yon 
may have twice as much to spend. Hooray. 


To which Monty responded: 

Defeat the measnre at any cost. The more the mer- 
tier, and charge it to me. Briwstkr. 

P. S. Please send many cables and mark them ooUeoL 

The Riviera season was fast closing, and the 
possibilities suggested by Monte Carlo were 
too alluring to the host to admit of a long stop 
at Gibraltar. But the DeMilles had tetters to 
one of the officers of the garrison, and Brew- 
ster could not overlook the opportunity to give 
an elaborate dinner. The success of the affair 
may best be judged by the fact that the *'Flit* 
ter's" larder required an entirely new stock the 
next day. The officers and ladies of the garrU 



son were asked, and Monty would have enter- 
tained the entire regiment with beer and sand- 
wiches if his friends had not interfered. 

"It might cement the Anglo-American 
alliance," argued Gardner, **but your pocket- 
book needs cementing a bit more." 

Yet the pocket-book was very wide open, 
and Gardner's only consolation lay in a tall 
English girl whom he took out to dinner. For 
the others there were many compensations, as 
the affair was brilliant and the new element a 
pleasant relief from the inevlt'able monotony. 

It was after the guests had gone ashore that 
Monty discovered Mr. and Mrs. Dan holding ?^ 
tfite-a-t6te in the stern of the boat. 

"I am sorry to break this up," nc inter- 
rupted, "but as the only conscientious chap- 
eron in the party, I must warn you that your 
behavior is already being talked about. The 
idea of a sedate old married couple sitting out 
here alone watching'the'moon ! It's shocking. " 

"I yield to the host," said Dan, mockingly. 
"But I shall be consumed with jealousy until 
you restore her to me." 

Monty noticed the look in Mi's. Dan's eyes 
as she watched her husband go, and marked a 
new note in her voice as she said, "How thif 
trip is bringing him out 




"He has just discovered," Monty observedt / 
"'that the club is not the only place in the 

"It's a funny thing/' she answered, "that 
Dan should have been so misunderstood. Do 
you know that he relentlessly conceals his best 
5ide? Down underneath he is the kind of man 
who could do a fine thing very simply." 

"My dear Mrs. Dan, you surprise me. It 
'ooks to me almost as though you had fallen in 
love with Dan yourself." 

"Monty," she said, sharply, "you are as 
blind as the rest. Have you never seen that 
before? I have played many games, but I 
have always conae back to Dan. Through 
them all I have known that he was the only 
thing possible to me — the only thing in the 
least desirable. It's a queer muddle that one 
should be tempted to play with fire even when 
one is monotonously happy. I've been singed 
once or twice. But Dan is a dear and he has 
always helped me out of a tight place. He 
knows. No one understands better than Dan. 
And perhaps if I were less wickedly human, 
be would not care for me so much." 

Monty listened at first in a sort of daze, for 
he had unthinkingly accepted the general opin* 
ion of the DeMille situation. But there were 


tears in her eyes for a moment, and the tone of 
her voice was convincing. It came to him with 
unpleasant distinctness that he had been all 
kinds of a fool. Looking back over his inter- 
course with her, he realized that the situation 
had been clear enough all the time. 

"How little we know our friends!" he 
exclaimed, with some bitterness. And a 
moment ' later, "I've liked you a great deal 
Mrs. Dan, for a long time, but to-night — well, 
to-night I am jealous of Dan." 

The "Flitter" saw some rough weather in 
making the trip across the Bay of Lyons. She 
was heading for Nice when an incident occurred 
that created the first real excitement experi- 
enced on the voyage. A group of passengers 
in the main saloon was discussing, more 
or less stealthily, Monty's "misdemeanors," 
when Reggy Vanderpool sauntered lazily in^ 
bis face displaying the only sign of interest it 
had shown in days. 

"Funny predicament I was just in," he 
drawled. "I want to ask what a fellow should 
have done under the circumstances." 

"I'd have refused the girl," observed "Rip" 
Van Winkle, laconically. 

"Girl had nothing to do with it, old chap,*^ 
went on Reggy, dropping into a chair. *'Fel* 


low fell overboard a little while ago," he went 
on, calmly. There was a chorus of cries and 
Brewster was forgotten for a time. "One of 
the sailors, you know. He was doing some- 
thing in the rigging near where I was standing. 
Puff! off he went into the sea, and there he 
was puttering around in the water.'' 

"Oh, the poor fellow," cried Miss Valentine. 

"I'd never set eyes on him before — perfect 
stranger. I wouldn't have hesitated a minute, 
but the deck was crowded with a lot of his 
friends. One chap was his bunkie. So, really 
now, it wasn't my place to jump in after him. 
He could swim a bit, and I yelled to him to 
hold up and I'd tell the captain. Confounded 
captain wasn't to be found though. Some- 
body said he was asleep. In the end I told the 
mate. By this time we were a mile away from 
the place where he went overboard, and I told 
the mate I didn't think we could iind him if 
we went back. But he lowered some boats 
and they put back fast. Afterwards I got to 
thinking about the matter. Of course if I had 
known him — if he had been one of you — it 
would have been different." 

"And you were the best swimmer in college, 
you n)iserable rat," exploded Dr. Lotless. 

There was a wild rush for the upper deck» 


and Vanderpool was not the hero of the hour* 
The "Flitter" had turned and was steaming 
back over her course. Two small boats were 
racing to the place where Reggy's unknown 
had gone over. 

"Where is Brewster?" shouted Joe Bragdon. 

**I can't find him, sir," answered the first 

"He ought to ksow of this," cried Mr. Val- 

"There! By the eternal, they are picking 
somebody up over yonder," exclaimed the 
mate. "See! that first boat has laid to and 
they are dragging — yes, sir, he's saved!" 

A cheer went up on board and the men in 
the small boats waved their caps in response. 
Everybody rushed to the rail as the "Flitter" 
drew up to the boats, and there was intense 
excitement on board. A gasp of amazement 
went up from every one. 

Monty Brewster, drenched but smiling, sat 
in one of the boats, and leaning limply against 
him, his head on his chest, was the sailor who 
had fallen overboard. Brewster had seen tlie 
man in the water and, instead of wondering 
what his antecedents were, leaped to his assist- 
ance. When the boat reached him his uncon- 
scious burden was a dead weight and his own 


Strength was almost gone. Another minute or 
two and both would have gone to the bottom. 

As they hauled Monty over the side he shiv- 
ered for an instant, grasped the first little hand 
that sought his so frantically, and then turned 
to look upon the half-dead sailor. 

"Find out that boy's name, Mr. Abertz, and 
see that he has the best of care. Just before 
he fainted out there he murmured something 
about his mother. He wasn't thinking of him- 
self even then, you see. And Bragdon" — this 
in a lower voice — "will you see that his wages 
are properly increased? Hello, Peggy! Look 
out, you'll get wet to the skin if vou do that** 



If Montgomery Brewster had had any mU 
givings about his ability to dispose of the 
balance of his fortune they were dispelled 
very soon after his party landed in the Riviera. 
On the pretext that the yacht required a 
thorough * 'house cleaning" Brewster trans- 
ferred his guests to the hotel of a fascinating 
village which was near the sea and yet quite 
out of the world. The place was nearly empty 
at the time and the proprietor wept tears of 
joy when Monty engaged for his party the 
entire first floor of the house with balconies 
overlooking the blue Mediterranean and a sep- 
arate dining-room and salon. Extra servants 
were summoned, and the Brewster livery was 
soon a familiar sight about the village. The 
protests of Peggy and the others were only 
silenced when Monty threatened to rent a villa 
and go to housekeeping. 

The town quickly took on the appearance 0/ 

entertaining a royal visitor, and a number d 

shops were kept open longer than usual in the 



hope ttuA dseir owiiers m^t catch some of 
the Americafl'f money* One morning Phi- 
Kppe^ the hotel proprietor, was trying to 
impress Brewster with a gesticulatory descrip- 
tion of the glories of the BataiUe de Fletirs. 
It seemed quite impossible to express the 
extent of his regret that the party had not 
arriired in time to see it 

'This is quite another place at that time," 
he said ecstatically. **C*tst magnifique! c'est 
superbe! If monsieur had only seen it!" 

'*Why not have another all to ourselves?" 
asked Monty* But the suggestion was not 
taken seriously. 

Nevertheless the young American and his 
host were in secret session for the rest of the 
mornings and when the result was announced at 
luncheon there was general consternation. It 
appeared that ten days later occurred the 
f£te day of some minor saint who had not for 
years been accorded the honor of a celebration. 
Monty proposed to revive the custom by 
arranging a second carnival. 

''You might just as well not come to the 
Riviera at all/' he explained, "if you can't see 
a carnival. It's a simple matter, really. I 
offer one prize for the best decorated carriage 
and another to the handsomest lady. Then 


everyone puts on a domino and a mask, throws 
confetti at everyone else, and there you are." 

"I suppose you will have the confetti made 
of thousand franc notes, and offer a house and 
lot as a prize. " And Bragdon feared that his 
sarcasm was almost insulting. 

"Really, Monty, the scheme is ridiculous," 
said DeMille, **the police won't allow it." 

"Won't they though!" said Monty, exult- 
antly. "The chief happens to be Philippe's 
brother-in-law, and we had him on the tele- 
phone. He wouldn't listen to the scheme until 
we agreed to make him grand marshal of the 
parade. Then he promised the cooperation of 
the entire force and hoped to interest his col- 
league, the chief of the fire department. " 

"The parade will consist of two gendarmes 
and the Brewster party in carriages," laughed 
Mrs. Dan. "Do you expect us to go before or 
after the bakery carts?" 

"We review the procession from the hotel," 
said Monty. "You needn't worry about the 
f^te. It's going to be great. Why, an Irish- 
man isn't fonder of marching than these peo« 
pie are of having a carnival." 

The men in the party went into executive 
session as soon as Monty had gone to inter- 
iriew thr local authorities, and seriously cofn- 


sidered taking measures to subdue their host's 
eccentricities. But the humor of the scheme 
appealed to them too forcibly, and almost 
before they knew it they were making plans 
for the carnival. 

"Of course we can't let him do it, but it 
would be sport," said "Subway" Smith. 
"Think of a cake-walk between gendarmes and 

"I always feel devilish the moment I get a 
mask on," said Vanderpool, "and you know, 
by Jove, I haven't felt that way for years." 
That settles it, then," said DeMille. 

Monty would call it off himself if he knew 
how it would affect Reggie." 

Monty returned with the announcement that 
the mayor of the town would declare a holiday 
if the American could see his way to pay for 
the repairs on the mairie roof. A .circus, 
which was traveling in the neighborhood, was 
guaranteed expenses if it would stop over and 
occupy the square in front of the Hotel de 
Ville. Brewster's enthusiasm was such that 
no one could resist helping him, and for nearly 
a week his friends were occupied in superin- 
tending the erection of triumphal arches and 
encouraging the shopkeepers to do their best. 
Although the scheme had been conceived in 


the spirit of a lark it was not so received by 
the townspeople. They were quite serious in 
the matter. The railroad officials sent adver- 
tisements broadcast, and the local cur^ called 
to thank Brewster for resurrecting, as it were, 
the obscure saint. The expression of his grat- 
itude was so mingled with flattery and appeal 
that Monty could not overlook the hint that 
a new altar piece had long been needed. 

The great day finally arrived, and no carnival 
could have been more bizarre or more success- 
ful. The morning was devoted to athletics and 
the side shows. The pompiers won the tug of 
war, and the people marveled when Monty 
duplicated the feats of the strong man in the 
circus. DeMille was called upon for a speech, 
but knowing only ten words of French, he 
graciously retired in favor of the mayor, and 
that pompous little man made the most of a 
rare opportunity. References to Franklin and 
Lafayette were so frequent that ''Subway'* 
Smith intimated that a rubber stamp must have 
been used in writing the address. 

The parade took place in the afternoon, and 
proved quite the feature of the day. The ques- 
tion of precedence nearly overturned Monty's 
plans, but the chief of police was finally made 
to see that if he were to be chief marshal it 


was only fair that the pompiers should inarch 
ahead of the gendarmes. The crew of the 
"Flitter'' made a wonderful showing. It was 
led by the yacht's band, which fairly outdid 
Sousa is noise, though it was less unanimous 
in the matter of time. All the fiacres came at 
the end, but there were so many of them and 
the line of march was so short that at times 
they were really leading the procession despite 
the gallant efforts ot the grand marshal. 

From the balcony of the hotel Monty and his 
party pelted those below with flowers and con- 
fetti. More allusions to Franklin and Lafay- 
ette were made when the cur^ and the mayor 
halted the procession and presented Monty 
with an address richly engrossed on imitation 
parchment Then the school children sang 
and the crowd dispersed to meet again in the 

At eight o'clock Brewster presided over a 
large banquet, and numbered among his guests 
everyone of distinction in the town. The 
wives were also invited and Franklin and 
Lafayette were again alluded to. Each of the 
men made at least one speech, but "Subway" 
Smith's third address was the hit of the even- 
ing. Knowing nothing but English he had 
previously clung consistently to that language, 


but the ' third and final address seemed to 
demand something more friendly and genial. 
With a sweeping bow and with all the dignity 
of a statesman he began : 

"Mesdames et Messieurs: J'ai, tu as, il a, 
nous avons," — with a magnificent gesture, 
"vous avez." The French members of the 
company were not equal to his pronunciation 
and were under the impresrion that he was 
still talking English. They were profoundly 
impressed with his deference and grace and 
accorded his preamble a round of applause. 
The Americans did their utmost to persuade 
him to be seated, but their uproar was mis- 
taken by the . others for enthusiasm, and the 
applause grew louder than ever. "Subway" 
held up his hand for silence, and his manner 
suggested that he was about to itter some 
peculiarly important thought. He waited until 
a pin fall could have been heard before he 
went on. 

"Maltre coroeau sur un arbre perchfi — " 
he finished the speech as hw was being carried 
bodily from the room by beMille and Brag- 
don. The Frenchmen then imagined that 
Smith's remarks had beeii insulting, and his 
friends had silenced him on that account A 
riot seemed imminent when Monty succeeded 


in restoring silence, and with a few tactfeil 
remarks about Franklin and Lafayette quieted 
the excited guests. 

The evening ended with fireworks and a 
dance in the open air, — a dance that grew gay 
under the masks. The wheels had been well 
oiled and there was no visible failure of the 
carnival spirit. To Brewster it seemed a mad 
game, and he found it less easy to play a part 
behind the foolish mask than he expected. His 
own friends seemed to elude him, and the 
coquetries of the village damsels had merely a 
fleeting charm. He was standing apart to 
watch the glimmering crowd when he was 
startled by a smothered cry. Turning to inves- 
tigate, he discovered a little red domino, 
unmistakably frightened, and trying to release 
herself from a too ardent Punchinello. Monty's 
arrival prevented him from tearing off the girl's 
mask and gave him an entirely new conception 
of the strenuous life. He arose fuming and 
sputtering, but he was taken in hand by the 
crowd and whirled from one to another in 
whimsical mockery. Meanwhile Monty, un- 
conscious that his mask had dropped during 
the encounter, was astonished to feel the little 
hand of the red domino on his arm aod to bear 
a voice not all unfamiliar in his ea';> 


*'Monty, you are a dear. I love you for that. 
You looked like a Greek athlete. Do you know 
— it was foolish — but I really was frightened." 

"Child, how could it have happenied?" he 
whispered, leading her away. **Fancy my little 
Peggy with no one to look after her. What 
a beast I was to trust you to Pettingill. I might 
have known the chump would have been 
knocked out by all this color." He stopped 
to look down at her and a light came into his 
eyes. "Little Peggy in the great world," he 
smiled; "you are not fit. You need — well, you 
need — ^just me." 

But Mrs. Valentine had seen him as he stood 
revealed, and came up in search of Peggy. It 
was almost morning, she told her, and quite 
time to go back to the hotel and sleep. So in 
Bragdon's charge they wandered off, a bit 
reluctantly, a bit lingeringly. 

It was not until Monty was summoned to 
rescue "Reggie" Vanderpool from the stern 
arm of the law that he dicovered the identity 
of Punchinello. Manifestly he had not been 
in a condition to recognize his assailant, and a 
subsequent disagreement had driven the first 
out of his head. The poor boy was sadly 
bruised about the face and his arrest had prob- 
ably saved him from worse punishment. 


"I told you I couldn't wear a mask,'* he 
explained ruefully as Monty led him home. 
"But how could I know that he could hear me 
all the time?" 

The day after the carnival Brewster drove his 
guests over to Monte Carlo. He meant to stay 
only long enough to try his luck at the tables and 
lose enough to make up for the days at sea 
when his purse was necessarily idle. Swearen- 
gen Jones was forgotten, and soon after his 
arrival he began to plunge. At first he lost 
heavily, and it was with difficulty that he 
concealed his joy. Peggy Gray was watching 
him, and in whispers implored him to stop, 
but Mrs. Dan excitedly urged him to continue 
until the luck changed. To the girl's chagrin 
it was the more reckless advice that he fol- 
lowed. In so desperate a situation he felt that 
he could not stop. But his luck turned too 

"I can't afford to give up," he said, miser- 
ably, to himself, after a time. "I'm already a 
winner by five thousand dollars, and I must at 
least get rid of that." 

Brewster became the center of interest to 
those who were not playing and people mar- 
veled at bb luck. They quite misinterpreted 
bis eagerness and the flushed anidous look with 


which he followed each spin of the wheel. He 
had chosen a seat beside an English duchess 
whose practice it was to appropriate the win- 
nings of the more inexperienced players, and 
he was aware that many of his gold pieces 
were being deliberately stolen. Here he 
thought was at least a helping hand, and he 
was on the point of moving his stack toward 
her side when DeMille interfered. He had 
watched the duchess, and had called the 
croupier's attention to her neat little method. 
But that austere individual silenced him by 
saying in surprise, "Mais c'est madame la 
duchesse, que voulez-vous?" 

Not to be downed so easily, DeMille 
watched the play from behind Monty's chair 
and cautioned his friend at the first oppor- 

''Better cash in and change your SAat, 
Monty. They're robbing you," he whispered. 

"Cash in when I'm away ahead of the game? 
Never!" and Monty did his best to assume 
a joyful tone. 

At first he played with no effort at system, 
jullng his money flat on the numbers which 
seemed to have least chance of winning, but 
he simply could not lose. Then he tri^ to 
reverte different systems be had heard of* but 


they turned out to be winners. Finally in 
desperation he began doubling on one color in 
the hope that he would surely lose in the end« 
but his particular fate was against him. With 
his entire stake on the red the ball continued 
to fall in the red holes until the croupier 
announced that the bank was broken. 

Dan DeMille gathered in the money and 
counted forty thousand dollars before he 
handed it to Monty. His friends were over- 
joyed when he left the table, and wondered why 
he looked so downhearted. Inwardly he 
berated himself for not taking Peggy's advice. 

*'rm so glad for your sake that you did not 
stop when I asked you, Monty, but your luck 
does not change my belief that gambling is 
next to stealing," Peggy was constrained to 
say as they went to supper. 

"I wish I had taken your advice, " he said 

"And missed the fortune you have won? 
How foolish of you, Montyl You were a loser 
by several thousand dollars then," she 
objected with whimsical inconsistency. 

"But, Peggy," he said quietly, looking deep 
into her eyes, "it would have won me ^uf 



Monty's situation was desperate. Only a 
little more than six thousand dollars had been 
spent on the carnival and no opportunity of 
annihilating the roulette winnings seemed to 
offer Itself. His experience at Monte Carlo 
did not encourage him to try again, and Peggy's 
attitude toward the place was distinctly antag* 
onistic. The Riviera presenting no new 
opportunities for extravagance^ it became 
necessary to seek other worlds. 

"I never before understood the real meaning 
of the phrase 'tight money/ *' thought Monty. 
"Lord, if it would only loosen a bit and stay 
loosened." Something must be done, he 
realized, to earn his living. Perhaps the rdle 
of the princely proSigate would be easier in 
Italy than anywhere ,else. He studied the 
outlook from every point of view, but there 
were moments when it seemed hopeless. 
Baedeker was provokingly barren of sug- 
gestions for extravagance and Monty grew 
impatient of the book's small economies. 
Noticing some chapters on the Italian lakes, in 



an inspired moment he remembered that 
Petting:ill had once lost his heart to a villa on 
the Lake of Como. Instantly a new act of the 
comedy presented itself to hinL He sought 
out Pettingill and demanded a description of 
bis castle in the air. 

"Oh, it's a wonder/' exclaimed the artist, and 
bis eyes grew dreamy. "It shines out at you 
with its white terraces and turrets like those 
fascinating castles that Maxfield Parrish draws 
for children. It b fairyland. You expect to 
wake and find it gone. " 

•'Oh, drop that. Petty/' said Brewster, "or it 
will make you poetical. What I want to know 
is who owns it and is it likely to be occupied 
at this season?'' 

"It belongs to a certain marquise, who is a 
widow with no children. They say sLe has a 
horror of the place for some reason and has 
never been near it. It is kept as though she 
were to turn up the next day, but except for 
the servants it is always deserted" 

"The very thing," declared Brewster; 
"Petty, we'll have a house-party." 

"You'd better not count on that, Monty. 
A man I know ran across the place once and 
tried for a year to buy it. But the lady has 
ideas of her own." 


**Well, if you wish to give him a hint or two 
about how to do things, watch me. If you 
don't spend two weeks in your dream-castle, I 
will cut the crowd and sail for home." He 
secured the name of the owner, and found 
that Pettingill had even a remote idea of the 
address of her agent. Armed with these facts 
he set out in search * of a courier, and through 
Philippe he secured a Frenchman named 
Bertier, who was guaranteed to be surprisingly 
ingenious in providing methods of spending 
money. To him Brewster confided his scheme, 
and Bertier realized with risipg enthusiasm 
that at last he had secured a client after his 
own heart. He was able to complete the 
address of the agent of the mysterious mar- 
quise, and an inquiry was immediately tele- 
graphed to him. 

Tlie agent's reply would have been dis- 
couraging to anyone but Brewster. It stated 
that the owner had no intention of leasing her 
forsaken castle for any period whatever. The 
profligate learned that a fair price for an 
estate of that kind for a month was ten 
thousand francs, and he wired an offer of five 
times that sum for two weeks. The agetit 
replied that some delay would be necessary 
while he communicated with bis principal. 


Delay was the one word that Brewster did not 
understand, so he wired him an address in 
Genoa, and the ''Flitter" was made ready for 
sea. Steam had been kept up, and her coal 
account would compare favorably with that of 
an ocean liner. Philippe was breathless with 
joy when he was paid in advance for another 
month at the hotel, on the assumption that 
the party might be moved to return at any 
moment. The little town was gay at parting 
and Brewster and his guests were given a royal 

At Genoa the mail had accumulated and 
held the attention of the ytcht to the exclusion 
of everything else. Brewster was somewhat 
crestfallen to learn that the lady of the villa 
haughtily refused his princely offer. He won 
the life-long devotion of his courier by 
promptly increasing it to one hundred thou- 
sand francs. When this too met with rejection, 
there was a pause and a serious consultation 
between the two. 

**Bertier," exclaimed BrcViTSter, "I must 
have the thing now. What's to«be done? 
You've got to help me out." 

But the courier, prodigal as he was of 
gestures, had no words which seemed pertinent. 

''There must be some way of getting at this 

:fairyland lOT 

marquise/ '^ Monty continued reflectively. 
"What are her tastes? Do you know any* 
thing about her?" 

Suddenly the face of the courier grew bright. 
"I have it," he said, and then he faltered. 
•'But the expense, monsieur — it would be 

•'Perhaps we can meet it," suggested Monty, 
quietly. "What's the idea?" 

It was explained, with plenty of action to 
make it clear. The courier had heard in 
Florence that madame la marquise had a 
passion for automobiles. But with her inade- 
quate fortune and the many demands upon it, 
it was a weakness not readily gratified. The 
machine she had used during the winter was 
by no means up-to-date. Possibly if nionsieur-^ 
yet it was too much — no villa — 

But Brewster's decision was made. "Vire 
the fellow," he said, "that I will add to my 
last offer a French machine of the latest model 
and the best make. Say, too, that I would 
like immediate possession." 

He sectrred it, and the crowd was transferred 
at once to fairyland. There were protests, of 
course, but these Brewster had grown to expect 
and he was learning to carry things with a 
high hand. The travelers had been preceded 


by Bertier, and the greeting they received 
from the steward of the estate and his innumer- 
able assistants was very Italian and full of 
color. A break in their monotony was 

The loveliness of the villa and its grounds, 
which sloped down to the gentle lake, silenced 
criticism. For a time it was supremely satisfy- 
ing to do nothing. Pettingill wandered about 
as though he could not believe it was real. 
He was lost in a kind of atmosphere of ecstasy. 
To the others, who took it more calmly, it was 
still a sort of paradise. Those who were 
happy found in it an intensification of happi- 
ness, and to those who were sad it offered the 
tenderest opportunities for melancholy. Mrs. 
Dan told Brewster that only a poet could have 
had this inspiration. And Peggy added, 
"Anything after this would be an anti-cjimax. 
Really, Monty, you would better take us home. " 

"I feel like the boy who was shut in a closet 
for punishment and found it the place where 
they kept the jam," said "Subway." "It is 
almost as good ias owning Central P2Lrk." 

The stables w.ere well equipped and the 
days wore on in a wonderful peace. It was on 
a radiant afternoon, when twelve of the crowd 
had started out, after tea, for a long ride toward 


Lugano, that Monty determined to call Peggy 
Gray to account. He was certain that she had 
deliberately avoided him for days and weeks, 
and he could find no reason for it. Hour after 
hour he had lain awake wondering where he 
had failed her, but the conclusion of one 
moment was rejected the next. The Monte 
Carlo episode seemed the most plausible cause, 
yet even before that he had noticed that when- 
ever he approached her she managed to be 
talking with some one else. Two or three 
times he was sure she had seen his intention 
before she took refuge with Mrs. Dan or Mary 
Valentine or Pettingill. The thought of the 
last name gave Monty a sudden thrill. What 
if it were he who had come between them? It 
troubled him, but there were moments when 
the idea seemed impossible. As they mounted 
and started off, the exhilaration of the ride 
made him hopeful. They were to have dinner 
in the open air in the shadow of an abbey ruin 
some miles away, and the servants had been 
sent ahead to prepare it. It went well, and 
with Mrs: Dan's help the dinner was made 
gay. On the return Monty who was off last 
spurred up his horse to join Peggy. She 
seemed ea^er to be with the rest and be lost 
00 tioae with a preamble* 


"Do you know, Peggy," he began, "some- 
thing seems to be wrong, and I am wondering 
what it is." 

"Why, what do yoo sneaa, Monty?" as he 

"Every time I come near you, child, you 
seem to have something else to do. If I join 
the group you are in, it is the signal for you 
to break away." 

"Nonsense, Monty, why should I avoid you? 
We have known one another much too long 
for that. ' ' But he thought he detected some 
contradiction in her eyes, and he was right. 
The girl was afraid of him, afraid of the sensa- 
hons he awoke, afraid desperately of betrayal. 

"Pettingill may appeal to you," he said, 
and his voice was serious, "but you might at 
least be courteous to me." 

"How absurd you are, Monty Brewster." 
The girl grew hot. "You needn't think that 
your million gives you the privilege of dicta* 
ting to all of your guests." 

"Peggy, how can you," he interjected. 

She went on ruthlessly. "If my conduct 
interferes with your highness's pleasure I can 
easily join the Prestons in Paris." 

Suddenly Brewster remembered that Pet- 
tingill had spoken of the Prestons and expressed 


a fleeting wish that he might be with them in 
the Latin Quarter. "With Pettingill to follow, 
I suppose," he said icily. "It would certainly 
give you more privacy." 

"And Mrs. Dan more opportunities," she 
retorted as he dropped back toward the others. 

The artist instantly took his place. The 
next moment he had challenged her to a race 
and they were flying down the road in the 
moonlight. Brewster, not to be outdone, was 
after them, but it was only a moment before 
his horse shied violently at something black 
in the road. Then he saw Peggy's horse gallop- 
ing riderless. Instantly, with fear at his throat, 
he had dismounted and was at the girl's side. 
She was not hurt, they found, only bruised and 
dazed and somewhat lamed. A. girth had 
broken and her saddle turned. The crowd 
waited, silent and somewhat awed, until the 
carriage with the servants came up and she 
was put into it. Mrs. Dan's maid was there 
and Peggy insisted that she would have no one 
else. But as Monty helped her in, he had 
whispered, "You won't go, child, will you? 
How coi?dCA things go op here?" 



The peacefulness of fairyland was something 
which Brewster could not afford to continue, 
and with Bertier he was soon planning to 
invade it. The automobile which he was 
obliged to order for the mysterious marquise 
put other ideas into his head. It seemed at 
once absolutely necessary to give a coaching 
party in Italy, and as coaches of the right kind 
were hard to find there, and changes of horses 
most uncertain, nothing could be more simple 
and natural than to import automobiles from 
Paris. Looking into the matter, he found 
that they would have to be purchased outright, 
as the renting of .five machines would put his 
credit to too severe a test. Accordingly 
Bertier telegraphed a wholesale order, which 
taxed the resources of the manufacturers and 
caused much complaint from some customers 
whose work was unaccountably delayed. The 
arrangement made by the courier was that they 
were to be taken back at a greatly reduced 
price at the end of six weeks. The machines 



were shipped at once, five to Milan, and one to 
the address of the mysterious marquise in 

It was with a sharp regret that Monty broke 
into the idyl of the villa, for the witchery of 
the place had got into his blood. But a stern 
sense of duty, combined with the fact that the 
Paris chauffeurs and machines were due in 
Milan on Monday, made him ruthless. He 
was astonished that his orders to decamp were 
so meekly obeyed, forgetting that his solicitous 
guests did not know that worse extravagance 
lay beyond. He took them to Milan by train 
and lodged them with some splendor at the 
H6tel Cavour. Here he found that the fame 
of the princely profligate had preceded him, 
and his portly host was all deference and 
attention. All regret, too, for monsieur was 
just too late to hear the wonderful company of 
artists who had been singing at La Scala. The 
season was but just ended. Here was an 
opportunity missed indeed, and Brewster's 
vexation brought out an ironical comment to 
Bertier. It rankled, but it had its effect. The 
courier proved equal to the emergency. Dis- 
covering that the manager of the company and 
the principal artists were still in Milan, he 
suggested to Brewster that a special perform- 


ance would be very difficult to secure but might 
still be possible. His chief caught at the idea 
and authorized him to make every arrangement, 
reserving the entire house for his own party. 

"But the place will look bare," protested 
the courier, aghast. 

"Fill it with flowers, cover it with tapestries, " 
commanded Brewster. "I put the affair in 
your hands, and I trust you to carry it through 
in the right way. Show them how it ought to 
be done." 

f^ertier's heart swelled within him at the 
thought of so glorious an opportunity. His 
fame, he felt, was already established in Italy. 
It became a matter of pride to do the thing 
handsomely, and the necessary business 
arrangements called out all his unused 
resources of delicacy and diplomacy. When 
it came to the decoration of the opera house, 
he called upon Pettingill for assistance, and 
together they superintended an arrangement 
which curtained off a large part of the place 
and reduced it to livable proportions. With 
the flowers and the lights, the tapestries and 
the great faded flags, it became something 
quite different from the usual empty theater. 

To the consternation of the Italians, the 
work had been rushed, and it was on the even* 


ing after their arrival in Milan that Brewster 
conducted his friends in state to the Scala. It 
was almost a triumphal progress, for he had 
generously if unwittingly given the town the 
most princely sensation in years, and curiosity 
was abundant. Mrs. Valentine, who was in 
the carriage with Monty, wondered openly why 
they were attracting so much attention. 

"They take us for American dukes and 
princesses," explained Monty. "They never 
saw a white man before." 

"Perhaps they expected as to ride on buf- 
faloes," said Mrs. Dan, "with Indian captives 
in our train." 

"No," "Subway" Smith protested, "I seem 
to see disappointment in their faces. They 
are looking for crowns and scepters and a 
shower, of gold coin. Really, Monty, you 
don't play the game as you should. Why, I 
could give you points on the potentate act 
myself. A milk-white steed, a few clattering 
attendants in gorgeous uniforms, a lofty nod 
here and there, and little me distributing silver 
in the rear." 

"I wonder," exclaimed Mrs. Dan, "if they 
don't get tired now and then of being poten- 
tates. Can't you fancy living in palaces and 
longing for a thatched cottage?" 


"Easily," answered "Subway," with a laugh. 
"Haven't we tried it ourselves? Two months 
of living upon nothing but fatted calves is 
more^than I can stand. We shall be ready for 
a home for dyspeptics if you can't slow down 
a bit, Monty." 

Whereupon Mrs. Dan evolved a plan, and 
promptly began to carry it out by inviting the 
crowd to dinner the next night. Monty pro- 
tested that they would be leaving Milan in the 
afternoon, and that this was distinctly his affair 
and he was selfish. 

But Mrs. Dan was very sure. "My dear 
boy, you can't have things your own way every 
minute. In another month you will be quite 
spoiled. Anything to prevent that. My duty 
is plain. Even if I have to use heroic 
measures, you dine with me to-morrow." 

Monty recognized defeat when he met it, and 
graciously accepted her very kind invitation. 
The next moment they drew up at the opera 
house and were ushered in with a deference 
only accorded to wealth. The splendor of the 
effect was overpowering to Brewster as well as 
to his bewildered guests. Aladdin, it seemed, 
had fairly outdone himself. The wonder of it 
was so complete that it was some time before 
they could settU dowa to the opera, wbicl) 

' ^ 


was Aida, given with an enthusiasm that only 
Italians can compass. 

During the last intermission Brewster and 
Peggy were walking in the foyer. They had 
rarely spoken since the day of the ride but 
Monty noticed with happiness that she had on 
several occasions avoided Pettingill. 

**I thought we had given up fairyland when 
we left the lakes, but I believe you carry it 
with you/' she said. 

"The trouble with this/* lilonty replied, "is 
that there are too many people about. My 
fairyland is to be just a little different." 

"Your fairyland, Monty, will be built of 
gold and paved with silver You will sit all 
day cutting coupons in an office of alabaster." 

"Peggy, do you too think me vulgar? It's a 
beastly parade, I know, but it can't stop now. 
You don't realize the momentum of the thing. " 
You do it up to the handle," she put in. 
And you are much too generous to be vulgar. 
But it worries me, Monty, it worries me des- 
perately. It's the future I'm thinking of — 
your future, which is being swallowed up. 
This kind of thing can't go on. And what is 
to follow it? You are wasting your substance, 
and you are not making any life for yourself 
that opens out. ' ' 

I < 


'Teggy/' he answered very seriously, "you 
have got to trust me. I can't back out, but 
ril tell you this. You shall not be disappointed 
in me in the end." 

There was a mist before the girl's eyes as 
she looked at him. "I believe you, Monty,*' 
she said simply; "I shall not forget." 

The curtain rose upon the next act, and 
something in the opera toward the end seemed 
to bring the two very close together. As they 
were leaving the theater, there was a note of 
regret from Peggy. "It has been perfect," 
she breathed, "yet, Monty, isn't it a waste 
that no one else should have seen it? Think 
of these poverty-stricken peasants who adore 
music and have never heard an opera." 

"Well, they shall hear one now." Monty 
rose to it) but he felt like a hypocrite in con- 
cealing his chief motive. "We'll repeat the 
performance to-morrow night and fill the house 
with them." 

He was as good as his word. Bertier wao 
given a task the next day which was not to 
bis taste. But with the assistance of the city 
authorities he carried it through. To them it 
was an evidence of insanity, but there was 
something princely about it and they were 
tolerant. The manager of the opera house 


WSS less complacent, and he had an exclama* 
tory terror of the damage to his upholstery. 
B«it Brewster had discovered that in Italy gold 
is a panacea for all ills, and his prescriptions 
were liberal. To him the day was short, for 
Peggy's interest in the penance, as it came to 
be called, was so keen that she insisted on 
having a hand in the preliminaries. There 
was something about the partnership that 
appealed to Monty. 

To her regret the DeMille dinner interfered 
with the opening of the performance, but 
Monty consoled her with the promise that the 
opera and its democratic audience should 
follow. During the day Mrs. Dan had been 
deep in preparations for her banquet, but her 
plans were elaborately concealecf^ They 
culminated at eight o'clock in the Cova not far 
from the Scala, and the dinner was eaten in 
the garden to the sound of music. Yet it was 
an effect of simplicity with which Mrs. Dan 
surprised her guests. They were prepared ior 
anything but that, and when they were served 
with consomm^, spaghetti — a concession to Itie 
chef — and chops and peas, followed by a salcMi 
and coffee, the gratitude of the crowd was quite 
beyond expression. In a burst of enthusiasm 
*'Subway" Smith suggested a testimonial* 


Monty complained bitterly^ that he himself 
had never received a ghost of a testimonial. 
He protested that it was not deserved. 

"Why should you expect it?" exclaimed 
Pettingill, "when have you risen from terrapin 
and artichokes to chops and chicory? When 
have you given us nectar and ambrosia like 

Monty was defeated by a unanimous vote 
and Mrs. Dan's testimonial was assured. 
This matter settled, Peggy and Mrs. Valentine, 
with Brewster and Pettingill, walked over to 
the Scala and heard again the last two acts of 
Aida. But the Audience was different, and the 

The next day at noon the chauffeurs from 
,Paris reported for duty, and five gleaming 
French devil-wagons steamed off through the 
crowd in the direction of Venice. Through 
Brescia and Verona and Vicenza they passed, 
scattering largess of silver in their wake and 
leaving a trail of breathless wonder. Brewster 
found the pace too fast and by the time they 
reached Venice he had a wistful longing to 
take this radiant country more slowly. "But 
this is purely a business trip," he thought, 
**and I can't expect to enjoy it. Some day 
ril come back and do it differently. I could 



spend hours in a gondola if the blamed things 
were not more expensive by the trip." 

It was there that he was suddenly recalled 
to his duty from dreams of moonlight on the 
water, by a cablegram which demanded $324.00 
before it could be read. It contained word for 
word the parable of the ten talents and ended 
with the simple word **joiieB.*^ 



The summer is scarcely a good time to visit 
Egypt, but Monty and his guests had a de- 
sire to see even a little of the northern 
coast of Africa. It was decided, therefore, 
that after Athens, the ''Flitter," should go 
south. The yacht had met them at Naples 
after the automobile procession — a kind of tri- 
umphal progress, — was disbanded in Florence, 
and they had taken a hurried survey of Rome. 
By the middle of July the party was leav- 
ing the heat of Egypt and finding it not half 
bad. New York was not more than a month 
away as Brewster reckoned time and dis- 
tance, and there was still too much money 
in the treasury. As September drew nearer 
he got into the habit of frequently forgetting 
Swearengen Jones until it was too late to 
retrace his steps.' He was coming to the 
•'death struggle," as he termed it, and there 
was something rather terrorizing in the fear 
that 'the million might die hard." And so 
these last dasrs and nights were glorious onefl^ 



if one could have fooked at them with unbi- 
ased, untroubled eyes. But every member of 
his party was praying for the day when the 
"Flitter" would be well into the broad Atlantic 
and the worst over. At Alexandria Brewster 
had letters to some Englishmen, and in the few 
entertainments that he gave succeeded once 
again, in fairly outdoing AIaddin< 

A sheik from the interior was a guest at one 
of Monty's entertainments. He was a burly, 
hot-blooded fellow, with a densely-populated 
harem, and he had been invited more as a 
curiosity than as one to be honored. As h« 
came aboard the "Flitter," Monty believed 
the invitation was more than justified. Mo« 
hammed was superb, and the women of the 
party made so much of him that it was small 
wonder that his head was turned. He fell 
desperately in love with Peggy Gray on sight, 
and with all the composure of a potentate who 
has never been crossed he sent for Brewster 
the next day and told him to "send her 
around" and he would marry her. Monty's 
blood boiled furiously for a minute or two, but 
he was quick to see the wisdom of treating the 
proposition diplomatically. He tried to make 
it plain to the sheik that Miss Gray could not 
accept the honor he wished to confer upon 


her^ but it was not Mohammed's custom to be 
denied anything be asked for-— especially any* 
thing feminine. He complacently announced 
that he would come aboard that afternoon and 
talk it over with Peggy. 

Brewster looked the swarthy gentleman 
over with unconcealed disgust in his eyes. 
The mere thought of this ugly brute so much 
as touching the hand of little Peggy Gray filled 
him with horror, and yet there was something 
laughable in the situation. He could not hide 
the smile that came with the mind picture of 
Peggy listening to the avowal of the sheik. 
The Arab misinterpreted this exhibition of 
mirth. To him the grin indicated friendship 
and encouragement He wanted to give 
Brewster a ring as a pledge of affection, but 
the American declined the offering and also 
refused to carry a bag of jewels to Peggy. 

"I'll let the old boy come aboard just to see 
Peggy look a hole through him/' he resolved. 
"No matter how obnoxious it may be, it isn't 
every girl who can say an oriental potentate 
has asked her to marry him. If this camel- 
herder gets disagreeable we: may tumble him 
into the sea for a change." 

With the best grace possible he invited the 
sheik to come aboard and consult Miss Gray 


!n person. Mohammed was a good bit puzzled 
over the intimation that it would be neces- 
sary for him to plead for anything he had ex- 
pressed a desire to possess. Brewster confided 
the news to "Rip" Van Winkle and "Subway" 
Smith, who had gone ashore with him, and 
the trio agreed that it would be good sport to 
let the royal proposal come as a surprise to 
Peggy. Van Winkle returned to the yacht at 
once, but his companions stayed ashore to do 
some shopping. When they approached the 
•'Flitter'* later on they obser/ed an unusual 
commotion on deck. 

Mohammed had not tarried long aftes their 
departure. He gathered his train together, 
selected a few costly presents that had been 
returned from the harem and advanced on the 
boat without delay. The captain of the 
"Flitter" stared long and hard at the gaily 
bedecked launches and then called to his first 
officer. Together they watched the ceremo- 
nious approach. A couple of brown-faced 
heraldsrcame aboard first and announced the 
approach of the mighty chief. Captain Perry 
went forward to greet the sheik as he came over 
the side of the ship» but be was brushed aside 
by the advance guards. Half a hundred 
swarthy fellows erdwdid abdard and then came 


tiie sheikt the per8onifi(/ation of pomp and 

"Where is she?"* be asked in his native 
tongue. The passengers were by this time 
ftware of the visitation, and began to straggle 
on deck, filied with curiosity. 

'*What the devil do you mean by coming 
aboard in this manner?" demanded the now 
irate Captain Perry, shoving a couple of 
retainers out of his path and facing the beam- 
ing suitor. An interpreter took a hand at this 
juncture and the doughty captain finally was 
made to understand the object of the visit. He 
laughed in the sheik's face and told the mate 
to call up a few jackies to drive the "dagoes" 
off. "Rip" Van Winkle Interfered and peace 
was restored. The cruise had changed "Rip" 
into a happier and far more radiant creature, so 
it was only natural that he should have shared 
the secret with Mary Valentine. He had told the 
story of the sheik's demand/ to her as soon as 
he came aboard, and she had divulged it to 
Peggy the instant "Rip" was out of sight. 

Brewster found the sheik sitting in state 
on the upper deck impatiently awaiting the 
appearance of his charmer. He did not know 
her name, but he had tranquilly commanded 
*'Rip" to produce all of the women on board 


SO that he might select Peggy from among 
them. Van Winkle and Bragdon, who now 
was in the secret, were preparing to march 
the ladies past the ruler when Monty came up. 

"Has he seen Peggy?** he asked of Van 

"Not yet. She is dressing for the occasion." 

"Well, wait and see what happens to him 
when she gets over the first shock," laughed 

Just then the sheik discovered Peggy, who, 
pretty as a picture, drew near the strange group. 
To her amazement two slaves rushed forward 
and obstructed her passage long enough to beat 
their heads on the deck a few times, after 
which they arose and tendered two magnifi- 
cent necklaces. She was prepared for the 
proposal, but this action disconcerted her; she 
gasped and looked a::out in perplexity. Her 
friends were smiling broadly and the sheik 
had placed his hands over his palpitating heart. 

"Lothario has a pain," whispered "Rip" 
Van Winkle sympathetically, and Brewster 
laughed. Peggy did not hesitate an instant 
after hearing the laugh. She walked straight 
toward the sheik. Her cheeks were pink and 
her eyes were flashing dangerously. The 
persistent brown slaves followed wstb the 


jewels, but she ignored them completely. 
Brave as she intended to be* she could not 
repress the shudder of repulsion that went 
over her as she looked full upon this eager 

Graceful and slender she stood before the 
the burly Moh^med, but his ardor was not 
cooled by the presence of so many witnesses. 
With a thud he dropped to his knees, wab- 
bling for a moment in the successful effort to 
maintain a poetic equilibrium. Then he began 
pouring forth volumes of shattered French, 
English and Arabic sentiment, accompanied 
by facial contortions so intense that they were 
little less than gruesome. 

"Oh, joy of the sun supreme, jewel of the 
only eye, barken to the entreaty of Moham- 
med." It was more as if he were command- 
ing his troops in battle chan pleading for the 
tender compassion of a lady love. "I am come 
for you, queen of the sea and earth and sky. 
My boats are here, my camels there, and 
Mohammed promises you a palace in the sun-lit 
hills if you will but let him bask forever in the 
glory of your smile." All this was uttered in 
a mixture of tongues so atrocious that "Sub- 
way" Smith afterward described it as a salad. 
The retinue bowed impressively and two of 


three graceless Americans applauded as vig* 
orously as if they were approving the actions 
of a well-drilled comic opera chorus. Sailors 
were hanging in the rigging, on the davits and 
over the deck house roof. 

"Smile for the gentleman, Peggy/* com* 
manded Brewster delightedly. *'He wants ta 
take a short bask." 

"You are very rude, Mr. Brewster,** said 
Peggy turning upon him coldly. Then to the 
waiting, expectant sheik: ''What b the mean« 
ing of this eloquence?** 

Mohammed looked bewildered for a moment 
and then turned to the interpreter, who cleared 
up the mystery surrounding her English. For 
the next three or four minutes the air was filled 
with the "Jewels of Africa,** ''Star,'* "Sun- 
light," "Queen," "Heavenly Joy," "Pearl of 
the Desert," and other things in bad English, 
worse French, and perfect Arabic. He was 
making promises that could not be redeemed 
if he lived a thousand years. In conclusion 
the gallant sheik drew a long breath, screwed 
his face into a simpering grin and played his 
trump card in unmistakable English. It 
sounded pathetically like "You're a peach.** 

An indecorous roar went up from the white 
spectators and a jacky in the rigging, sud- 


denly thinking of home, piped up with a bar 
or two from "The Star Spangled Banner.'* 

Having accomplished what he considered to 
be his part of the ceremony the sheik arose 
and started toward his launch, coolly motion- 
ing for her to follow So far as he was con- 
cerned the matter was closed. But Peggy, her 
heart thumping like a trip-hammer, her eyes 
full of excitement, implored him to stop for a 

"I appreciate this great honor, but I have a 
request to make,'* she said clearly. Mohammed 
paused irresolutely and in some irritation. 

"Here's where the heathen gets it among 
the beads,** whispered Monty to Mrs. Dan, 
and he called out: "Captain Perry, detail half 
a dozen men to pick up the beads that are 
about to slip from his majesty's neck.'* 



Peggy gave the sheik an entrancing smilct 
followed by a brief glance at the beaming Miss 
Valentine, who nodded her head approvingly. 

"Won't you give me time to go below and 
pack my belongings that they may be sent 
ashore?" she asked naively. 

"Thunder!" gasped Monty. "That's no way 
to turn him down." 

"What do you mean, Monty Brewster?" she 
cried, turning upon him with flashing eyes. 

"Why, you're encouraging the old guy," he 
protested, disappointment in every inflection. 

"And what if I am? Isn't it my affair? I 
think I am right in suspecting that he has asked 
me to be his wife. Isn't it my privilege to 
accept him if I wish?" 

Brewster's face was a study. He could not 
believe that she was in earnest, but there was a 
ghastly feeling that the joke was being turned 
on him. The rest of the company stared hard at 
the flushed Peggy and breathlessly awaited 


'*\t won't do to trifle with this chap, Peggy/* 
said Monty, coming quite close to her. "Don't 
lead him on. He might get nasty if he thinks 
you're making sport of him." 

"You are quite absurd, Monty,'' she cried, 
petulantly. "I am not making sport of him." 

"Well, then, why don't you tell him to go 
about his business?" 

"I don't see any beads lying around loose," 
said "Rip" tormentingly. The sheik impa* 
tiently said something to the interpreter and 
that worthy repeated it for Peggy's benefit. 

"The Son of the Prophet desires that you be 
as quick as possible. Queen ^a the World. He 
tires of waiting and commands you to come 
with him at once." 

Peggy winced and her eyes shot a brief look 
of scorn at the scowling sheik. In an instant, 
however, she was smiling agreeably and was 
turning toward the steps. 

"Holy mackerel! Where are you going, 
Pegg>'?" cried Lotless, the first to turn fear- 

"To throw some things into my trunk," she 
responded airily. "Will you come with me, 

"Peggy!" cried Brewster angrily. "This 
has gone far enough." 


*'You should have spoken sooner, Monty/' 
she said quietly. 

"What are you going to do, Margaret?" 
cried Mrs. Dan," her eyes wide with amaze- 

"I am going to marry the Son of the 
Prophet," she replied so decidedly that every- 
one gasped. A moment later she was sur- 
rounded by a group of excited women, and 
Captain Perry was calling the "jackies" forward 
in a voice of thunder. 

Brewster pushed his way to her side, his 
face as white as death. 

•'This isn't a joke, Peggy," he cried. "Go 
below and I'll get rid of the sheik." 

Just then the burly Algerian asserted him- 
self. He did riot like the way in which hia 
adored one was being handled by the "white 
dogs," and with two spearmen he rushed up to 
Brewster, jabbering- angrily. 

"Stand back, you idiot, or I'll punch your 
head off," said Brewster, with sudden emphasis. 

It was not until this moment that Peggy 
realized that there might be a serious side to 
the little farce she and Mary had decided to 
play for the punishment of Brewster. Terror 
suddenly took the place of mirth, and she clung 
frantically to Monty's arm. 


"I was joking, Monty, only joking," the 
cried. *'Oh, what have I done?" 

"It's my fault/' he exclaimed, "but FIl take 
care of you, never fear." 

"Stand aside!" roared the sheik threaten- 

The situation was ominous. Frightened as 
they were the women could not flee, but 
stood as if petrified. Sailors eagerly swarmed 
to the deck. 

"Get oiGE this boat," said Monty, ominously 
calm, to the interpreter, "or we'll pitch you and 
your whole mob into the sea." 

"Keep cool! Keep cool!" cried "Subway'* 
Smith quickly. He stepped between Brew* 
ster and the angry suitor, and that action alone 
prevented serious trouble. While he parleyed 
with the sheik Mrs. DeMille hurried Peggy to 
a safe place below deck, and they were fol- 
lowed by a flock of shivering women. Poor 
Peg£^ was almost in tears and the piteous 
glances she threw at Brewster when he stepped 
between her and the impetuous sheik, who had 
started to follow, struck deep into his heart and 
made him ready to fight to the death for her. 

It took nearly an hour to convince the 
Algerian that Peggy had misunderstood him 
and that American women were not W be 


190oed after the African fashion. He finally 
departed with his entire train, thoroughly 
dissatisfied and in high dudgeon. At first he 
threatened to take her by force; then he 
agreed to give her another day in which to 
make up her mind to go with him peaceably, 
and again he concluded that a bird in the hand 
was worth two in the bush. 

Brewster stood gloomily on the outside of 
*e excited group glowering upon the ugly 
suitor. Cooler heads had relegated him to this 
place of security during the diplomatic contest 
The sheik's threats of vengeance were direful. 
He swore by somebody's beard that he would 
bring ten thousand men to establish his claim 
by force His intense desire to fight for her 
then and there was quelled by Captain Perry's 
detachment of six lusty sailors, whose big bare 
fists were shaken vigorously under a few startled 
noses. It took all the fight out of the sheik 
and his train. Three retainers fell into the sea 
while trying to retreat as far as possible from 

Mohammed departed with the irate dcclam- 
tion that he would come another day and that 
the whole world would tremble at his approach. 
Disgusted with himself and afraid to meet the 
eyes of the other men, Brewster went below in 


search of Peggy. He took time to comfort the 
anxious women who crowded about him and 
then asked for Miss Gray. She was in her 
stateroom and would not come forth. When 
he knocked at the door a dismal^ troubled voice 
from within told him to go away. 

"Come out, Peggy; it's all over/' he called. 

"Please go away, Monty/' she said. 

•■What are you doing in there?* There was 
a long pause, and then came the pitiful little 
wail: ''I am unpacking, please, sir." 

That night Brewster entertained on board the 
yacht, several resident French and English 
acquaintances being the guests of honor. The 
story of the day was told by Mrs. Dan DeMillet 
commissioned especially for the duty. She 
painted the scene so vividly that the guests 
laughed with joy over the discomfiture of the 
shiek. Peggy and Brewster found themselves 
looking sheepishly at one another now and then 
in the course of the recital. She purposely had 
avoided him during the evening, but she had 
gamely endured the raillery that came from 
the rest of the party. If she was a bit pale it 
was not surprising. Now that it was over the 
whole affair appalled her more than she could 
have suspected. When several of the guests of 
the evening soberly announced that Mohammed 

THE SHE lies STRA TEG Y 227 

was a dangerous man and even an object of 
worry to the government she felt a strange catch 
in her throat and her now mirthless eyes turned 
instinctively to Brewster, who, it seemed, was 
the sheik's special object of aversion. 

The next day she and Monty talked it over. 
The penitence of both was beautiful to behold. 
Each denied the other the privilege of assum* 
ing all the blame and both were so happy that 
Mohammed was little more than a preposition 
in their conversation so far as prominence was 
concerned. But all day long the harbor was 
full of fisher boats, and at nightfall they still 
were lolling about, sinister, restless, mysteri* 
ous like purposeless buzzards. And the dark 
men on board were taking up no fish, neither 
were they minding the nets that lay dry and 
folded in the bottom of their boats. 

Far into the night there was revelry on board 
the ''Flitter/* more guests having come out 
from the city. The dark hours before the 
dawn of day had arrived before they put off 
for shore, but the fisher boats still were bob- 
bing about in the black waters of the harbor. 
The lights gradually disappeared from the 
port-holes of the yacht, and the tired watch was ' 
about to be relieved. Monty Brewster and Peggy 
femadned on deck after the guests bad goiM 


over the side of the vessel. They were leaning 
over the rail aft listening to the jovial voices 
of the visitors as they grew fainter and fainter in 
the distance. The lights of the town were few, 
but they could plainly be seen from the offing. 

"Are you tired, Peggy?'* asked Brewster, 
with a touch of tenderness. Somehow of late 
he had often felt a strange desire to take her 
in his arms, and now it was strong upon him. 
She was very near, and there was a drooping 
weariness in her attitude which seemed to 
demand protection. 

"I have a queer feeling that something awful 
is going to happen to-night, Monty," she 
answered, trouble in her soft voice. 

"You're nervous, that's all," he said, "and 
you should get to sleep. Good-night." Their 
hands touched in the darkness, and the thrill 
that went over him told a truth of which he had 
ocen only vaguely conscious. The power of 
it made him exultant. Yet when he thought 
of her and her too quiet affection for him it 
left him despondent. 

Something bumped against the side of the 
ship and a grating sound followed. Then 
came other gentle thuds combined with the 
soft swish of water disturbed. Peggy and 
Brewster were on the point of going below 


when their attention waJ caught by theae 
strange sounds. 

"What is it?" she asked as they paused 
irresolutely. He strode to the rail, the girl fol- 
lowing close behind. Three sharp little whistles 
came from above and behind them, but before 
they had time even to speculate as to their 
meaning the result was in evidence. 

Over the sides of the ship came shadowy 
forms as if by magic; at their backs panther-like 
bodies dropped to the deck with stealthy 
thuds, as if coming from the inky sky above. 
There was an instant of dreadful calm and then 
the crisis. A dozen sinewy forms hurled them- 
selves upon Brewster, who, taken completely by 
surprise, was thrown to the deck in an instant, 
his attempt to cry out for help being checked 
by heavy hands. Peggy's scream was cut off 
as quickly, and paralyzed by terror, she felt 
herself engulfed in strong arms and smothered 
into silence. It all happened so quickly that 
there was no chance to give the alarm, no 
opportunity to resist. 

Brewster felt himself lifted bodily, and 
then there was the sensation of falling. He 
struck something forcibly with all his weight 
and fell back with a crash to the deck. After- 
ward he found that the effort to throw him 


overboafd had failed only because his assailants 
in their haste had hurled him against an unseen 
stanchion. Pe|^y was borne forward and 
lowered swiftly into arms that deposited her 
roughly upon something hard. There was a 
jerky, rocking motion, the sudden splash of 
oars, and then she knew no more. 

The invaders had planned with a craftiness 
and patience that deserved success. For hours 
they had waited, silently, watchfully, and with 
deadly assurance. How they crept up to the 
"Flitter" in such numbers and how the more 
daring came aboard long before the blow was 
struck, no one ever explained. So quickly and 
so accurately was the abduction performed 
that the boats were well clear of the yacht 
before alarm was given by one of the watch 
who had been overlooked in the careful assault. 

Sleepy sailors rushed on deck with a prompt- 
ness that was an^izing. Very quickly they had 
found and unbound Brewster* carried a couple 
of wounded shipmates below and had Captain 
Perry in his pajamas on deck to take command. 

"The searchlightr* cried Brewster frantic- 
ally. "The devils have stolen Miss Gray.'* 

While swift hands were lowering the boats 
for the chase others were carrying firearms on 
deck. The searchlight threw its mighty white 


arm out over the water before many seconds 
had passed, and eager eyes were looking for 
the boats of the pillagers. The Arabs had 
reckoned without the searchlight. Their fierce 
exultation died suddenly when the mysterious 
streak of light shot into the sky and then swept 
down upon the sea, hunting them out of the 
darkness like a great and relentless eye. 

The " Flitter' s" boats were in the water and 
manned by sturdy oarsmen before the glad cry 
went up that the robber fleet had been dis- 
covered. They were so near the yacht that it 
was evident the dusky tribesmen were poor 
oarsmen. In the clear light from the ship's 
deck they could be seen paddling wildly, their 
white robes fluttering as though inspired by 
fear. There were four boats, all of them 
crowded to the gunwales. 

**Keep the light on them, captain/' shouted 
Monty from below. "Try to pick out the 
boat that has Miss Gray on board. Pull away, 
boys! This means a hundred dollars to every 
one of you — ^yes, a thousand if we have to fight 
for her!" 

"Kill every damned one of them, Mr. Brew- 
ster," roared the captain, who had retired 
behind a boat when he became aware of the 
presence of women on deck. 


Three boats shot away from the side of the 
yacht, Brewster and Joe Bragdon in the first, 
both armed with rifles. 

"Let's take a shot at 'em/' cried a sailor 
who stood ^in the stern with his finger on a 

"Don't do that! We don't know what boat 
holds Peggy/' commanded Brewster. "Keep 
cool, boys, and be ready to scrap if we have 
to/' He was half mad with fear and anxiety, 
and he was determined to exterminate the 
bands of robbers if harm came to the girl in 
their power. 

"She's in the second boat," came the cry 
from the yacht, and the searchlight was kept 
on that particular object almost to the exclu- 
sion of the others. But Captain Perry saw the 
wisdom of keeping all of them clearly located 
in order to prevent trickery. 

Brewster's brawny sailor boys came up fike 
greyhounds, cheering as they dashed among 
the boats of the fugitives. Three or four shots 
were fired into the air by the zealous American 
lads, and there were loud cries from the Arabs 
as they veered off panic-stricken. Monty's 
boat was now in the path of light and not far 
behind the one which held Peggy. He was 
standing in the bow. 


f I 


"Take care of the others!" he called back to 
his followers. "We'll go after the leaders." 

The response from behind was a cheer« a 
half dozen shots and some of the most joyous 
profanity that ever fell from the lips of Amer- 
ican sailors, mingled with shrieks from the 
boats they were to"take care of." 

Stop!" Brewster shouted to the Arabs. 
Stop, or we'll kill everyone of you!" His 
boat Wcis not more than fifty feet from the 

Suddenly a ^all, white-robed figure arose in 
the middle of the Egyptian craft, and a mo- 
ment later the pursuers saw Peggy's form 
passed up to him. She was instantly clasped 
by one of his long arms, and the other was 
lifted high above her. A gleaming knife was 
held in the upraised hand. 

"Fire on us if you dare!" came in French 
from the tall Arab. "Dog of an American, she 
shall die if you come near her I" 




Brewster's heart almost ceased beating, and 
every vestige of color left his face. Clear and 
distinct in the light from the yacht the Arab 
and his burden were outlined against the black 
screen beyond. There was no mistaking the 
earnestness of the threat, nor could the wit- 
nesses doubt the ghastly intention of the long, 
cruel knife that gleamed on high. Peggy's 
body served as a shield for that of her captor. 
Brewster and Bragdon recognized the man as 
one of Mohammed's principal retainers, a 
fierce-looking fellow who had attracted more 
than usual attention on the day of the sheik's 

"For God's sake, don't kill her!'* cried 
Brewster in agonized tones. There was a 
diabolical grin on the face of the Arab, who 
was about to shout back some defiant taunt 
when the unexpected happened. 

The sharp crack of a gun sounded in the 
stern of Brewster's boat, and anjunerring bul- 
let sped straight for the big Arab's forehead. 


It crashed between his eyes and death must 
have been instantaneous. The knife flew from 
his hand^ his body straightened and then 
collapsed, toppling over, not among his oars- 
men, but across the gunwale of the craft. 
Before a hand could be lifted to prevent, the 
dead Arab and the girl were plunged into the 

A cry of horror went up from the Americans,* 
and something surprisingly like a shout of 
triumph from the abductors. Even as Brew- 
ster poised for the spring into the water a fly- 
ing form shot past him and into the sea with a 
resounding splash. The man that fired the 
shot had reckoned cleverly, and he was 
carrying out the final details of an inspired 
plan. The Arab's position as he stood in the 
boat was such as to warrant the sailor's belief 
that he could fall no other way than forward, 
and that meant over the side of the boat. 
With all this clearly in mind he had shot 
straight and true and was on his way to the 
water almost as the two toppled overboard. 

Monty Brewster was in the water an instant 
later, striking out for the spot where they 
had disappeared, a little to the left of the 
course in which his boat was running. There 
was a rattle of firearms, with curses and cheers^ 


but he paid no heed to these sounds. He was 
a length or two behind the sailor, praying with 
all his soul that one or the other might succeed 
in reaching the white robes that still kept the 
surface of the water. His crew was "backing 
water" and straining every muscle to bring 
the boat around sharp for the rescue. 

The sailor's powerful strokes brought him 
to the spot first, but not in time to clutch the 
disappearing white robes. Just as he reached 
out an arm to grasp the form of the girl she 
went down. He did not hesitate a second but 
followed. Peggy had fallen from the dead 
Arab's embrace, and that worthy already was 
at the bottom of the sea. She was half con- 
scious when the shot came, but the plunge 
inte the cold water revived her. Her strug- 
gles were enough to keep her up for a 
few moments, but not long enough for the 
swimmers to reach her side. She felt her- 
self going down and down, strangling, smoth- 
ering, dying. Then something vise-like clutched 
her arm and she had the sensation of being 
jerked upward violently. 

The sailor fought his way to the surface with 
the girl, and Brewster was at his side in an 
instant. Together they supported her until 
one of the boats came up, and they were drawn 


over the side to safety. By this time the 
abductors had scattered like sheep without a 
leader, and as there was no further object in 
pursuing them the little American fleet put 
back for the yacht in great haste. Peggy was 
quite conscious when carried aboard by the 
triumphant Brewster. The words he whispered 
to her as she lay in the bottom of the boat 
were enough to give her life. 

The excitement on board the "Flitter** was 
boundless. Fear gave way to joy, and where 
despair had for a moment reigned supreme, 
there was now the most insane delight. Peggy 
was bundled below and into her berth, Dr. 
Lotless attending her, assisted by all the 
women on board. Brewster and the sailor, 
drenched but happy, were carried on the 
shoulders of enthusiastic supporters to a place 
where hot toddies were to be had before 

•'You have returned the favor, Conroy," 
said Brewster fervently, as he leaned across 
the heads of his bearers to shake hands with 
the sailor who was sharing the honors with 
him. Conroy was grinning from ear to ear aa 
be sat perched on the shoulders of his ship- 
mates. "I was luckier thao^ I thought in sav^ 
log your liSe that d^.^ 


"It wasn't anything, Mr. Brewster/* said 
young Conroy. ''I saw a chance to drop the 
big nigger, and then it was up to me to get 
her out of the water." 

"You took a big risk, Conroy ."but you made 
good with it If it had not been for you, my 
boy, they might have got away with Mbs 

"Don't mention it, Mr. Brewster, it was 
nothing to do," protested Conroy in confu* 
sion. "I'd do anything in the wond for you 
and for her." 

"What is the adage about casting your bread 
upon the water and getting it back again?" 
asked "Rip" Van Winkle of Joe Bragdon as 
they jubilantly followed the procession below. 

There was no more sleep on board that 
night. In fact the sun was not long in showing 
himself after the rescuers returned to the ves* 
sel. The daring attempt of Mohammed's emis- 
saries was discussed without restraint, and 
every sailor had a story to tell of the pursuit 
and rescue. The event furnished converse- 
tional food for days and days among both 
the seamen and the passengers. Dan DeMille 
blamed himself relentlessly for sleeping through 
it all and moped for hours because he had 
lost a magnificent chance to "do ^pm^^mg.'' 


The next morning he proposed to hunt for the 
sheik* and offered to lead an assault in person. 
An investigation was made and government 
officials tried to call Mohammed to account, 
but he had fled to the desert and the search 
was fruitless. 

Brewster refused to accept a share of the 
glory of Peggy's rescue, pushing Conroy for- 
ward as the real hero. But the sailor insisted 
that he could not have succeeded without help, 
—that he was completely exhausted when 
Monty came to the rescue. Peggy found it 
hard to thank him gently while her heart was 
so dangerously near the riot point, and her 
words of gratitude sounded pitifully weak and 

"It would have been the same had anybody 
else gone to her rescue,'* he mused deject- 
edly. *'She cares for me with the devotion 
of a sister and that's all. Peggy, Peggy," he 
moaned, "if you. could only love me, Td— 
I'd— oh, well, there's no use thinking about it! 
She will love someone else, of course, and— 
and be happy, too. If she'd appear only 
one-tenth as grateful to me as fo Conroy I'd 
be satisfied. He had the luck w be first, 
that's all, but God knows I tried to do it.** 

Mrs. Dan DeMille was keen enough to see 


hem die land lay; and she at once tried to 
matters straight She was far too clever to push 
her campaign ruthlessly, but laid her founda* 
tions and then built cunningly and securely with 
the most substantial material that came to hand 
from day to day. Her subjects were taking 
themselves too deeply to heart to appreciate 
interference on the part of an outsider, and 
Mrs. Dan was wise in the whims of love. 

Peggy was not herself for several days after 
her experience, and the whole party felt a 
distinct relief when the yacht finally left the 
harbor and steamed off to the west. A cable* 
gram that came the day before may have had 
something to do with Brewster's depression, 
but he was not the sort to confess it It wa? 
from Swearengen Jones, of Butte, Montana, 
and there was something sinister in the lacoofe 
admonition. It read: 


«*H«ve a good time wfaie good times last 


His brain was almost bursting with the hopes 
and fears and uncertainties that crowded it £ar 
beyond its ordinary capacity. It had come 
to the points it seemed to him, when the brains 
of a dttceo men at least were ro^uirad t» 


operate the affairs that were surging into his 
alone. The mere fact that the end of his year 
was less than two months off, and that there 
was more or less uncertainty as to the charac- 
ter of the end, was sufficient cause for worry, 
but the new trouble was infinitely harder to 
endure. When he sat down to think over his 
financial enterprises his mind treacherously 
wandered off to Peggy Gray, and then every- 
thing was hopeless. He recalled the courage 
and confidence that had carried him to Barbara 
Drew with a declaration of love — to the stun- 
ning, worldly Barbara — and smiled bitterly 
when he saw how basely the two allies were 
deserting him in this hour of love for Peggy . 
Gray. For some reason he had felt sure of 
Barbara; for another reason he saw no chance 
with Peggy. She was not the same sort — she 
was different She was — well, she was Peggy. 
Occasionally his reflections assumed the 
importance of calculations. His cruise was 
sure to cost $200,000, a princely sum, but 
not enough. Swearengen Jones and his cable- 
gram did not awe him to a great extent. 
The spending of the million had become a 
mania with him now and he had no regard 
for consequences. His one desire, aside from 
Peggy, was to increase the cost of the cruise. 


They were leaving Gibraltar when a new idea 
came into his troubled head. 

He decided to change his plans and sail for 
the North Cape, thereby adding more than 
1^30,000 to his credit 





Monty was on deck when the inspiration 
seized him, and he lost no time in telling his 
guests, who were at breakfast. Although he 
had misgivings about their opinion of the 
scheme, he was not prepared for the ominous 
silence that followed his announcement. 

"Are you in earnest, Mr. Brewster?" 
asked Captain Perry, who was the first of the 
company to recover from the surprise. 

"Of course I am. I chartered this boat for 
four months with the privilege of another 
month. I can see no reason to prevent us from 
prolonging" the trip.** Monty*s manner was 
filll of self-assurance as he continued: "You 
people are so in the habit of protesting against 
every suggestion I make that you can't help 
doing it now.'* 

"But, Monty/' said Mrs. Dan, "what if 
your guests would rather go home?*' 

"Nonsense; you were asked for a five 
months' cruise. Besides, think of getting 
home in the middle of August, with everyone 
away. It would be like going to Philadelphia. " 



Brave as he was in the presence of his 
friends, in the privacy of his stateroom 
Monty gave way to the depression that was 
bearing down upon him. It was the hardest 
task of his life to go on with his scheme in 
the face of opposition. He .knew that every 
man and woman on board was against the 
proposition, for his sake at least, and it was 
difficult to be arbitrary under the circum- 
stances. Purposely he avoided Peggy all fore- 
noon. His single glance at her face in the 
salon was enough to disturb him immeas- 

The spirits of the crowd were subdued. The 
North Cape had charms, but the proclamation 
concerning it had been too sudden — had re- 
versed too quickly the general expectation and 
desire. Many of the guests had plans at home 
for August, and even those who had none were 
satiated with excitement. During the morning 
they gathered in little knots to discuss the 
situation. They were all generous and each 
one was sure that he could cruise indefinitely, 
if on Monty's account the new voyage were not 
out of the question. They felt it their duty to 
take a desperate stand. 

The half-hearted little gatherings resolved 
themselves into ominous groups and in the 


end there was a call for a general meeting in 
the main cabin. Captain Perry, the first mate, 
and the chief engineer were included in the 
call, but Montgomery Brewster was not to be 
admitted. Joe Bragdon loyally agreed to 
keep him engaged elsewhere while the meeting 
was in progress. The doors were locked and 
a cursory glance assured the cha-nnan of thr 
meeting, Dan DeMille, that no member of thd 
party was missing save the devoted Bragdon. 
Captain Perry was plainly nervous and dis« 
turbed. The others were the victims of a 
suppressed energy that presaged subsequent 

"Captain Perry, we are afsembled here for a 
purpose," said DeMille, clearing his throat' 
three times. "First of all, as we understand 
it, you are the sailing master of this ship. In 
other words, you are, according to maritime 
law, the commander of this 'expedition. You 
alone can give orders to the sailors and you 
alone can clear a port. Mr. Brewster has nu 
authority except that vested in ^ common 
employer. Am I correct?" 

"Mr. DeMille, if Mr. Brewster instructs me 
to sail for the North Cape, I shall do so," said 
the captain, firmly. "This boat ts his for the 
full term of the lease and I am engaged to saQ 


her with my crew until the tenth of next 

"We understand your position, captain, and 
I am sure you appreciate ours. It isn't that 
we want to end a very delightful cruise, but 
that we regard it as sheer folly for Mr. Brew- 
ster to extend the tour at' such tremendous 
expense. He is — or was — a rich man, but it is 
impossible to ignore the fact that he is plunging 
much too heavily. In plain words, we want to 
keep him from spending more of his money on 
this cruise. Do you understand our position. 
Captain Perry?" 

**Fully. I wish with all my soul that I could 
help you and him. My hands are tied by 
contract, however, much as I regret it at thij 

"How does the crew feel about this addi- 
tional trip, captain?" asked DeMille. 

"They shipped for five months and will 
receive five months' pay. The men have been 
handsomely treated and they will stick to Mr. 
Brewster to the end," said the captain. 

"There is no chance for a mutiny, then?" 
asked Smith regretfully. The captain gave 
him a hard look, but said nothing. Everybody 
seemed uncomfortable. 

"Apparently the only way is the one sug« 


gested by Mr. Smith this morning/' said Mrs. 
Dan, speaking for the women. "No one will 
object, I am sure, if Captain Perry and his 
chief officers are allowed to hear the plan." 

"It is very necessary, in fact," said Mr. 
Valentine. "We cannot proceed without them. 
But they will agree with us, I am sure, that 
It IS wise. 

An hour later the meeting broke up and the 
conspirators made their way to the deck. It 
was a strange fact that no one went alone. 
They were in groups of three and four and the 
mystery that . hung about them was almost 
perceptible. Not one was willing to face the 
excited, buoyant Brewster without help; they 
found strength and security in companionship. 

Peggy was the one rebel against the con- 
spiracy, and yet she knew that the others were 
justified in the step they proposed to take. 
She reluctantly joined them in the end, but felt 
that she was the darkest traitor in the crowd. 
Forgetting her own distress over the way in 
which Monty was squandering his fortune, she 
stood out the one defender of his rights until 
the end and then admitted tearfully to Mrs. 
DeMille that she had been "quite unreason- 
able" in doing so. 

Alone in her stateroom after signing tiif 


agreement, she wondered what he would think 
of her. She owed him so much that she at 
least should have stood by him. She felt that 
he would be conscious of this. How could she 
have turned against him? He would not 
understand^-of course he would never under- 
stand. And he would hate her with the 
others — more than the others. It was all a 
wretched muddle and she could not see her 
way out of it. 

Monty found his guests very difficult. They 
listened to his plans with but little interest, 
and he could not but see that they were 
uncomfortable. The situation was new to their 
experience, and they were under a strain. 
"They mope around like a lot of pouting boys 
and girls," he growled to himself. "But it's 
the North Cape now in spite of everything. 
I don't care if the whole crowd deserts me« 
•ny mind is made up." 

Try as he would, he could not see Peggy 
alone. He bad much that he wanted to say to 
her and he hungered for the consolation her 
approval would bring him, but she clung to 
Pettingill with a tenacity that was discourage 
ing. The old feeling of jealousy that was cour 
nected with Como again disturbed him. 

•'She thiRk? tb^t I W 4 hopel§?s, ^?ri^^^leM 


idiot," he said to himself. "And I don't blame 
her, either." 

Just before nightfall he noticed that his 
friends were assembling in the bow. As he 
started to join the group **Subway" Smith and 
DeMille advanced to meet him. Some of the 
others were smiling a little sheepishly, but the 
two men were pictures of solemnity and 

"Monty," said DeMille steadily, "we have 
been conspiring against you and have decided 
that we sail for New York to-morrow morn- 

Brewster stopped short and the expression 
on his face was one they never could forget. 
Bewilderment, uncertainty and pain * suc- 
ceeded each other like flashes of light. Not a 
word was spoken for several seconds. The red 
of humiliation slowly mounted to his cheeks, 
while in his eyes wavered the look of one who 
has been hunted down. 

"You have decided?" he asked lifelessly, 
and more than one heart went out in pity to 

"We hated to do it, Monty, but for your 
own sake there was no other way," said "Sub- 
way" Smith quickly. "We took a vote and 
there wasn't a dissenting voice." * 


"It is a plain case of mutiny, I take it/' said 
Monty, utterly alone and heart-sick. 

"It isn't necessary to tell you why we have 
taken this step," said DeMille. "It is heart- 
breaking to oppose you at this stage of the 
game. You've been the best ever and " 

"Cut that," cried Monty, and his confidence 
in himself was fast returning. "This is no 
time to throw bouquets." 

**We like you, Brewster." Mr. Valentine 
tame to the chairman's assistance because the 
others had looked at him so appealingly. 
"We like you so well that we can't take the 
responsibility for your extravagance. It 
would disgrace us all." 

"That side of the matter was never men- 
tioned," cried Peggy indignantly, and then 
added with a catch in her voice, "We thought 
only of you. " 

"I appreciate your motives and I am grateful 
to you," said Monty. "I am more sorry than 
I can tell you that the cruise must end in this 
way, but I too have decided. The yacht will 
take you to some point where you can catch a 
steamer to New York. I shall secure passage 
for the entire party and very soon you will be 
at home. Captain Perry, will you oblige me 
by making at once for an^ port that my guests. 



may agree upon?" He was turning away de- 
liberately when "Subway" Smith detained him. 

"What do you mean by getting a steamer to 
New York? Isn't the 'Flitter' good enough?" 
he asked. 

"The 'Flitter' is not going to New York jost 
now," answered Brewster firmly, "no^th- 
standing your ultimatum. She is going te 
take me to the North Cape. " 



"Now will you be good?" cried Reggie 
Vanderpool to DeMille as Monty went down 
the companionway. The remark was precisely 
what was needed, for the pent-up feelings of 
the entire company were now poured forth upon 
the unfortunate young maa "Subway'' Smith 
was for hanging him to the yard arm, and the 
denunciation of the others was so decisive that 
Reggie sought refuge in the chart house. But 
the atmosphere had been materially cleared 
and the leaders of the mutiny were in a posi- 
tion to go into executive session and consider 
the matter. The women waited on deck while 
the meeting lasted. They were unanimous in 
the opinion' that the affair had been badly 

"They should have offered to stay by the 
ship providing Monty would let Mr. DeMille 
manage the cruise," said Miss Valentine. 
"That would have been a concession and at 
the same time it would have put the cruise on 
an economical basis." 

In other words you will accept a roan's 


u^ . AIR TRAITOR 263 

invitation to dinner if he will allow you to 
order it and invite the other guests/' said 
Peggy, who was quick to defend Monty. 

"Well that would be better than helping to 
eat up every bit of food he possessed." But 
Miss Valentine always avoided argument when 
she could and gave this as a parting thrust 
before she walked away. 

"There must be something more than we 
know about in Monty's extravagance," said 
Mrs. Dan. "He isn't the kind of man to 
squander his last penny without having some- 
thing left to show for it. There must be 
method in his madness." 

"He has done it for us," said Peggy. "He 
has devoted himself all along to giving us a 
good time and now we are showing our 

Further discussion was prevented by the 
appearance of the conspiring committee and 
the whole company was summoned to hear 
DeMille's report as chz^irman. 

"We have found a solution oi our diffi- 
culties." he began, and his manner was so 
jubilant that everyone became hopeful. "It 
is desperate but I think it will be effective. 
Monty has given us the privilege of leaving 
the yacht at any port where we can take a 


steamer to New York. Now, my suggestion 
is that we select the most convenient place 
for all of us, and obviously there is nothing 
quite so convenient as Boston." 

"Dan DeMille, you are quite foolish," cried 
his wife. "Who ever conceived such a 
ridiculous idea?" 

"Captain Perry has his instructions," con- 
tinued DeMille, turning to the captain. "Are 
we not acting along the lines marked out by 
Brewster himself?" 

"I will sail for Boston if you say the word," 
said the thoughtful captain. "But he is sure 
to countermand such an order." 

"He won't be able to, captain," cried 
"Subway" Smith, who had for some time been 
eager to join in the conversation. "This is a 
genuine, dyed-in-the-wool mutiny and we 
expect to carry out the original plan, which 
was to put Mr. Brewster in irons, until we are 
safe from all opposition." 

"He is my friend, Mr. Smith, and at least 
it is my duty to protect him from any indig- 
nity," said the captain, stiffly. 

"You make for Boston, my dear captain, 
and we'll do the rest," said DeMille. "Mr. 
Brewster can't countermand your orders unless 
he sees you in person. We'll see t<> it that he 


has BO chance to talk to you until we are in 
sight of Boston Harbor." 

The captain looked doubtful and shook his 
head as he walked away. At heart he was 
with the mutineers and his mind was made up 
to assist them as long as it was possible to do 
so without violating his obligations to Brewster. 
He felt guilty, however, in surreptitiously 
giving the order to clear for Boston at day- 
break. The chief officers were let into the 
secret, but the sailors were kept in darkness 
regarding the destination of the "Flitter." 

Montgomery Brewster's guests were im- 
mensely pleased with the scheme, although 
they were dubious about the outcome. Mrs. 
Dan regretted her hasty comment on the plan 
and entered into the plot with eagerness. In 
accordance with plans decided upon by the 
mutineers, Monty's stateroom door was guarded 
through the night by two of the men. The 
next morning as he emerged from his room, 
he was met by ''Subway" Smith and Dan 

"Good morning, " was his greeting. "How's 
the weather to-day?" 

"Bully," answered DeMille. "By the way, 
you are going to have breakfast in your room, 
old man. " 



Brewster unsuspectingly led the wajr into 
bis stateroom, the^two following. 

"What's the mystery?" he demanded. 

''We've been deputized to do some very 
nasty work," said "Subway" as he turned the 
key in the door. "We are here to tell you 
what port we have chosen." 

It's awfully good of you to tell me." 
'Yes, isn't it? But we have studied up on 
the chivalrous treatment of prisoners. We 
have decided on Boston." 

"Is there a Boston on this side of the water?" 
asked Monty in mild surprise. 

"No; there is only one Boston in the uni- 
verse, so far as we know. It is a large body of 
intellect surrounded by the rest of the world." 

"What the devil are you talking about? 
You don't mean Boston, Massachusetts?" cried 
Monty, leaping to his feet. 

"Precisely. That's the port for us and you 
told us to choose for ourselves," said Smith. 

"Well, I won't have it, that's all," exclaimed 
Brewster, indignantly. "Captain Perry takes 
orders from me and from no one else." 

"He already has his orders," said DeMille, 
smiling mysteriously. 

"I'll see about that. Brewster sprang to the 
door. It was locked and the key was in "Sub- 


way" Smith's pocket. With an impatient 
exclamation he turned and pressed an electric 

"It won't ring, Monty," explained "Sub- 
way." "The wire has been cut. Now, be 
cool for a minute or two and we'll talk it over. " 

Brewster stormed for five minutes, the 
"delegation" sitting calmly by, smiling with 
exasperating confidence. At last he calmed 
down and in terms of reason demanded an 
explanation. He was given to understand 
that the yacht would sail for Boston and that 
he would be kept a prisoner for the entire 
voyage unless he submitted to the will of the 

Brewster listened darkly to the proclamation. 
He saw that they had gained the upper hand 
by a clever ruse, and that only strategy on 
his part could outwit them. It was out of 
the question for him to submit to them now 
that the controversy had assumed the dignity 
of a struggle. 

"But you will be reasonable, won't you?" 
asked DeMille, anxiously. 

"I intend to fight it out to the bitter end/' 
said Brewster, his eyes dashing. "At present 
I am your prisoner, but it is a long way to 


fHf (hKe days and two nights the "Ptitter" 
^MMcd westward into the Atlantic, with her 
tt>ffipiMvy owner locked into his stateroom. 
"^ confioement was irksome, but he rather 
.;j.(,^ the sensation of being interested in 
«{tf»«hing besides money. He frequently 
ImS^^ to himself over the absurdity of the 
sit»»tion. His enemies were friends, true and 
iV«'Oted; his gaolers were relentless but they 
^i«)« considerate. The original order that he 
j;hould be guarded by one man was violated on 
the first day. There were times when his 
swA numbered at least ten persons and some 
,if them served tea and begged him to listen 
to reason. 

"It is difficult not to listen,* he said fiercely. 
"It's like holding a man down and then 
asking him to be quiet. But my time is 

"Revenge will be his!" exclaimed Mrs. Dan, 

"You might have your term shortened oa 

account of good conduct if you would only 

kati^iye^" suggested Peggy, whose reserve was 

ming to soften. "Please be good and give 

haven't been happier during the whole 
e," said Monty. "On deck I wouldn't 


be noticed, but here I am quite the whole 
thing. Besides I can get out whenever I feel 

like it." 

"I have a thousand dollars which says you 
can't," said DeMille, and Monty snapped 
him up so eagerly that he added, "that you 
can't get out of your own accord." 

Monty acceded to the condition and offered 
odds on the proposition to the others, but 
there were no takers. 

"That settles it," he smiled grimly to him-, 
self. "I can make a thousand dollars by stay- 
ing here and I can't afford to escape." 

On the third day of Monty's imprisonment 
the "Flitter" began to roll heavily. At first 
he gloated over the discomfort of his guards 
who obviously did not like to stay below. 
"Subway" Smith and Bragdon were on duty 
and neither was famous as a good sailor 
When Monty lighted his pipe there was con- 
sternation and "Subway" rushed on deck. 

"Kw are a brave man, Joe," Monty said to 
the other and blew a cloud of smoke in his 
direction. "I knew you would stick to your 
post. You wouldn't leave it even if the ship 
should go down." 

Bragdon had reached the stage where he 
dared not speak and was busying himself try- 


ing to "breathe with the motion of the boat'* 
as he had called it. 

"By Gad," continued Monty, relentlessly. 
"This smoke is getting thick. Some of this 
toilet water might help if I sprinkled it about. " 

One whiff of the sweet-smelling cologne 
was enough for Bragdon and he bolted up the 
companionway, leaving the stateroom door^ 
wide open and the prisoner free to go where he 
pleased. Monty's first impulse was to follow 
but he checked himself on the threshold. 

"Damn that bet with DeMille," he said to 
himself, and added aloud to the fleeing guard, 
"The key, Joe, I dare you to come back and 
get it!" 

But Bragdon was beyond recall and Monty 
locked the door on the inside and passed the 
kty through the ventilator. 

On deck a small part of the company braved 
the spray in the lee of the deck house, but the 
others had long since gone below. The boat 
was pitching furiously in the ugliest sea it 
had encountered, and there was anxiety under- 
neath Captain Perry's mask of unconcern. 
DeMille and Dr. Lotless talked in the senseless 
way men have when they try to conceal their 
nervousness. But the women did not respond; 
they were in no mood for conversation. 


Only one of them was quite oblivious to 
« personal discomfort and danger. Peggy Gray 
was thinking of the prisoner below. In a re* 
flection of her own terror, she pictured him 
crouching in the little stateroom, like a doomed 
criminal awaiting execution, alone, neglected, 
forgotten, unpitied. At first she pleaded with 
the men for his release, but they insisted upon 
waiting in the hope that a scare might bring 
him to his senses. Peggy saw that no help was 
to be secured from the other women, much as 
• they might care for Brewster's peace of mind 
and safety. Her heart was bitter toward 
everyone responsible for the situation, and 
there was dark rebellion in her soul. It cul-* 
minated finally in a resolve to release Monty 
Brewster at any cost. 

With difficulty she made her way to the 
stateroom door, clinging to supports at times 
and then plunging violently away from them. 
For some minutes she listened, frantically 
clutching Brewster's door and the wall-raiL 
There was no guard, and the tumult of the sea 
drowned every sound within. Her imagination 
ran riot when her repeated calls were not 

''Monty, Monty," she cried, pounding wildly 
on the door. 


"Who is it? What is the trouble?" came in 
muffled tones from within, and Peggy breathed 
a prayer of thanks. Just then she discovered 
the key which Monty had dropped and quickly 
opened the door, expecting to find him cower- 
ing with fear. But the picture was different. 
The prisoner was seated on the divan, propped 
up with many pillows and reading with the aid 
of an electric light "The Intrusions of Peggy." 



"Oh!" was Peggy's only exclamation, and 
there was a shadow of disappointment in her 

"Come in, Peggy, and Til read aloud," was 
Monty's cheerful greeting as he stood before 

"No, I must go," said Peggy, confusedly. 
"I thought you might be nervous about the 
storm — and — " 

"And you came to let me out?" Monty had 
never been so happy. 

"Yes, and I don't care what the others say. 
I thought you were suffering — " But at that 
moment the boat gave a lurch which threw 
her across the threshold into Monty's arms. 
They crashed against the. wall, and he held 
her a moment and forgot the storm. When 
she drew away from him she showed him the 
open door and freedom. She could not speak. 

"Where are the others?" he asked, bracing 
himself in the doorway. 

"Oh, Monty," she cried, "we must not go 
to them. They will think me a traitor." 


"Why were you a traitor, Peggy?" he 
demanded, turning toward her suddenly. 

"Oh^-oh, because it seemed so cruel to keep 
you locked up through the storm," she an- 
swered, blushing. 

"And there was no other reason?" he 

"Don't, please don't!" she cried, piteously, 
and he misunderstood her emotion. It was 
clear that she was merely sorry for him. 

"Never mind, Peggy, it's all right. You 
stood by me and I'll stand by you. Come on; 
we'll face the mob and I'll do the fighting." 

Together they made their way into the 
presence of the mutineers, who were crowded 
into the main cabin. 

"Well, here's a conspiracy," cried Dan 
DeMille, but there was no anger in his voice. 
"How did you escape? I was just thinking of 
unlocking your door, Monty, but the key 
seemed to be missing. " 

Peggy displayed it triumphantly. 

"By Jove," cried Dan. "This is rank 
treachery. Who was on guard?" 

A steward rushing through the cabin at 
this moment in answer to frantic calls from 
Bragdon furnished an eloquent reply to tiie 



••It was simple/' said Monty. "The guards 
deserted their post and left the key behind." 

"Then it is up to me to pay you a thousand 

"Not at all," protested Monty, taken aback. 
"I did not escape of my own accord. I had 
help. The money is yours. And now that I 
am free," he added, quietly, "let me say that 
this boat does not go to Boston." 

Just what I expected," cried Vanderpoc", 
She's going straight to New York !" declare, \ 
Monty. The words were hardly uttered whe^ 
a heavy sea sent him sprawling across the cabi^ 
and he concluded, "or to the bottom." 

"Not so bad as that," said Captain Perry, 
whose entrance had been somewhat hastened by 
the lurch of the boat. "But until this blows 
over I must keep you below." He laughed 
but he saw they were not deceived. "The seas 
are pretty heavy and the decks are being holy- 
stoned for nothing, but I wouldn't like to have 
any of you washed overboard by mistake." 

The hatches were battened down, and it was 
a sorry company that tried to while away the 
evening in the main cabin. Monty's chaffing 
about the advantages of the North Cape over 
the stormy Atlantic was not calculated to raise 
the drooping spirits, and it was very early 


when he and his shattered guests turned in. 
Theife was little sleep on board the "Flitter" 
that night Even if it had been easy to fo^el, 
the danger, the creaking of the ship and the 
incessant roar ol the water were enough for 
wakefulness. With each lurch of the boat it 
seemed more incredible that it could endure. 
It was such a mite of a thing to meet so furious 
an attack. As it rose on the wave to pause in 
terror on its crest before sinking shivering into 
the trough, it made the breath come short and 
the heart stand still. Through the night the 
fragile little craft fought its lonely way, bravely 
ignoring its own weakness and the infinite 
strength of its enemy. To the captain, lashed 
to the bridge, there were hours of grave 
anxiety — hours when he feared each wave as 
it approached, and wondered what new damage 
it had done as it receded. As the wind 
increased toward morning he felt a sickening 
certainty that the brave little boat was beaten. 
Somehow she seemed to lose courage, to waver 
a bit and almost give up the fight. He watched 
her miserably as the dismal dawn came up out 
of the sea. Yet it was not until seven o'clock 
that the crash came, which shook the passen- 
gers out of their berths and filled them with 
shivering terror. The whirling of the broken 


shaft seemed to consume the ship. , In every 
cabin it spoke with horrible vividness of 
disaster. The clamor of voices and the rush of 
many feet, which followed, meant but one 
thing. Almost instantly the m^Jainery was 
stopped — an ominous silence in the midst of 
the dull roar of the water and the cry of the wind. 

It was a terrified crowd that quickly gathered 
in the main cabin, but it was a brave one. 
There were no cries and few tears. They 
expected anything and were ready for the 
worst, but they would not show the white 
feather. It was Mrs. Dan who broke the 
tension. "I made sure of my pearls," she 
said; "I thought they would be appreciated it 
the bottom of the sea." 

Brewster came in upon their laughter. *'I 
like your nerve, people," he exclaimed, "you 
are all right. It won't be so bad now. The 
wind has dropped." 

Long afterward when they talked the matter 
over, DeMille claimed that the only thing that 
bothered him that night was the effort to decide 
whether the club of which he and Monty were 
members would put in the main hallway two 
black-bordered cards, each bearing a name, or 
only one with both names. Mr. Valentine 
tegretted that he had goae on for years paying 


life insurance premiums when now his only 
relatives w«re on the boat and would die with 

The captain, looking pretty rocky after his 
twenty-hour vigil, summoned his chief. "We're 
in a bad hole, Mr. Brewster," he said when 
they were alone, '*and no mistake. A broken 
shaft and this weather make a pretty poor 

''Is there no chance of making a port for 

* * I don' t see it, sir. It looks like a long pull." 

"We are way o£E our course, I suppose?" 
and Monty's coolness won Captain Perry's 

"I can't tell just how much until I get the 
sun, but this wind is hell. I suspect we've 
drifted pretty far." 

"Come and get some coffee, captain. While 
the storm lasts the only thing to do is to cheer 
up the women and trust to luck." 

"You are the nerviest mate I ever shipped 
with, Mr. Brewster," and the captain's hand 
gripped Monty's in a way that meant things. 
It was a tribute he appreciated. 

During the day Monty devoted himself to 
his guests, and at the first sign of pensiveness 
he was ready with a jest or a story. But Im 


did it all with a tact that insf ired the crowd as 
a whole with hope, and no one suspected that 
he himself was not cheerful. For Peggy Gray 
there was a special tenderness, ^nd he made up 
his mind that if things should £ro wrong he 
would tell her that he loved her. 

"It could do no harm," he thought to him* 
self, "and I want her to know." 

Toward night the worst was over. The sea 
had gone down and the hatches were opened 
for a while to admit air, though it was still 
too rough to venture out. The next morn- 
ing was bright and clear. When the com- 
pany gathered on deck the havoc created by 
the storm was apparent Two of the boats had 
been completely carried away and the launch 
was rendered useless by a large hole in the stern. 

"You don't mean to say that we will drift 
about until the ^repairs can be made?" asked 
Mrs. Dan in alarm. 

"We are three hundred miles ofif the course 
already," explained Monty, "and it will be 
pretty slow traveling under sail." 

It was decided to make for the Canary 
Islands, where repairs could be made and the 
voyage resumed. But where the wind had 
raged a few days before, it had now disap- 
peared altogether, and for a week the "Flitter'^ 


tossed about absolutely unable to make head- 
way. The first of August had arrived and 
Monty himself was beginning] to be nervous. 
With the fatal day not quite two months 
away, things began to look serious. Over one 
hundred thousand dollars would remain after 
he had settled the expenses of the cruise, and 
he was helplessly drifting in mid-ocean. Even if 
the necessary repairs could be made promptly, 
it would take the "Flitter" fourteen days to 
sail from the Canaries to New York. Figure 
as hard as he could he saw no way out of the 
tMifortunate situation. Two days more elapsed 
and still no sign of a breeze. Cie made sure 
that September 23d would find him still drift- 
ing and still in possession of one hundred 
thousand superfluous dollars. 

At the end ot ten days the yacht had pro- 
gressed but two hundred miles and Monty was 
beginning to plan the rest of his existence on 
a capital of 2 100,000. He had given up all 
hope of the Sedgwick legacy and was trying to 
be resigned to his fate, when a tramp steamer 
was suddenly sighted. Brewster ordered the 
man on watch to fly a flag of distress. Then 
he reported to the captain and told what he 
had done. With a bound the captam rushed 
on deck and tore the flag from the sailor's hand* 


'*That was my order/' said Monty, nettled 
at the captain's manner. 

"You want them to get a line on us and 
claim salvage, do you?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"If they get a line on us in response to that 
flag they will claim the entire value of the 
ship as salvage. You want to spend another 
|l200y000 on this boat?" 

"I didn't understand," said Monty, sheep- 
ishly. "But for God's sake, fix it up somehow. 
Can't they tow us? I'll pay for it." 

Communication was slow, but after an* 
apparently endless amount of signaling, the 
captain finally announced that the freight 
steamer was bound for Southampton and would 
tow the "Flitter" to that point for a price. 

"Back to Southampton!" groaned Monty. 
"That means months before we get back to 
New York." 

"He says he can get us to Southampton in 
ten days," interrupted the captain. 

"I can do it, I can do it," he cried, to the 
consternation of his guests who wondered if his 
mind were affected. "If he'll land us in 
Southampton by the 27th, I'll pay him up to 
one hundred thousand dollars." 



After what seemed an age to Monty, the 
••Flitter," in tow of the freighter "Glencoc/* 
arrived at Southampt6n. The captain of the 
freight boat was a thrifty Scotchman whose 
ship was traveling with a light cargo and he 
was not, therefore, averse to taking on a tow. 
But the thought of salvage had caused him to 
ask a high price for the service and Monty, 
after a futile attempt at bargaining, had agreed. 
The price was fifty thousand dollars, and the 
young man believed more than ever that every- 
thing was ruled by a wise Providence, which 
had not deserted him. His guests were heart- 
sick when they heard the figure, but were as 
happy as Monty at the prospect of reaching 
land again. 

The "Glencoe" made several stops before 

South impton was finally reached on the 28th 

of August, but when the English coast was 

sighced everyone was too eager to go ashore 

to begrudge the extra day. Dan DeMille 

asked the entire party to become his guests 



for a week's shooting trip in Scotland, but 
Monty vetoed the plan in the most decided 

"We sail for New York on the fastest boat," 
said Monty, and hurried off to learn the sail* 
ings and book his party. The first boat was to 
sail on the 30th and he could only secure 
accommodations for twelve of his guests. The 
rest were obliged to follow a week later. This 
was readily agreed to and Bragdon was left to 
see to the necessary repairs on the "Flitter" 
and arrange for her homeward voyage. Monty 
gave Bragdon fifteen thousand dollars for this 
purpose and extracted a solemn promise that 
the entire amount would be used. 

"But it won't cost half of this," protested 

"You will have to give these people a good 
lime during the week and — well — you have 
promised that I shall never see another penny 
of it. Some day you'll know why I do this," 
and Monty felt easier when his friend agreed to 
abide by his wishes. 

He discharged the "Flitter's" crew, with 
five months' pay and the reward promised on 
the night of Peggy's rescue, which was pro- 
ductive of touching emotions. Captain Perry 
%n(f his officers never forgot the farewell of 


the prodigal, nor could they hide the regret 
that marked their weather-beaten faces. 

Plans to dispose of his household goods and 
the balance of his cash in the short time that 
would be left after he arrived in New York 
occupied Monty's attention, and most men 
would have given up the scheme as hopeless. 
But he did not despair. He was still game, 
and he prepared for the final plunge with grim 

"There should have been a clause in Jones's 
conditions about 'weather permitting,' " he 
said to himself. ''A shipwrecked mariner 
should not be expected to spend a million 

The division of the party for the two sailings 
was tactfully arranged by Mrs. DeMille. The 
Valentines chaperoned the ** second table" as 
"Subway" Smith called those who were to take 
the later boat, and she herself looked after the 
first lot. Peggy Gray and Monty Brewster 
were in the DeMille party. The three days in 
England were marked by unparalleled extrav- 
agance on Monty's part. One of .the local 
hotels was subsidized for a week, although the 
party only stayed for luncheon, and the Cecil 
in London was a gainer by several thousand 
dollars for the brief stop there. It was a 


careworn little band that took Monty's special 
train for Southampton and embarked two days 
later. The "rest cure" that followed was 
welcome to all of them and Brewster was 
especially glad that his race was almost 

Swiftly and steadily the liner cut down the 
leagues that separated her from New York. 
Fair weather and fair cheer marked her course, 
and the soft, balmy nights were like seasons 
of fairyland. Monty was cherishing in his 
heart the hope inspired by Peggy's action on 
the night of the storm. Somehow it brought 
a small ray of light to his clouded understand- 
ing and he found joy in keeping the flame 
alive religiously if somewhat doubtfully. His 
eyes followed her constantly, searching for the 
encouragement that the very blindness of love 
had hidden from him, forever tormenting him- 
self with fears and hopes and fears again. Her 
happiness and vivacity puzzled him — he was 
often annoyed, he was now and then seriously 

Four days out from New York, then three 
days, then two days, and then Brewster began 
to feel the beginning of the final whirlwind in 
profligacy clouding him oppressively, omi- 
nously, unkindly. Down in his state room he 


drew new estimates, new calculations, and tiico 
to balance the old ones so that they appeared 
in the light most favorable to his designs. 
Going over the statistics carefully, he estimated 
that the cruise, including the repairs and the 
return of the yacht to New York, would cost 
him $210,000 in round figures. One hundred 
and thirty-three days marked the length of the 
voyage when reckoned by time and, as near as 
he could %tt at it, the expense had averaged 
$1,580 a day. According to the contract, he 
was to pay for the yacht, exclusive of the 
cuisine and personal service. And he had 
found it simple enough to spend the remaining 
$1,080. There were da3rs, of course, when 
fully $$,000 disappeared, and there were others 
on which he spent much less than $1,000, but 
the average was secure. Taking everything 
into consideration, Brewster found that his 
fortune had dwindled to a few paltry thousands 
in addition to the proceeds which would come 
io him from the sale of his furniture. On the 
whole he was satisfied. 

The landing in New York and tne separation 
which followed were not entirely merry. Every 
discomfort was forgotten and the travelers only 
knew that the most wonderful cruise since that 
of the ark had come to an end. There was not 


one who would not have been glad to begin it 
again the next day. 

Immediately after the landing Brewster and 
Gardner were busy with the details of settle- 
ment. After clearing up all of the obligations 
arising from the cruise, they felt the appro* 
priateness of a season of reflection. It was a 
diflicult moment— a moment when undelivered 
reproofs were in the air. But Gardner seemed 
much the more melancholy of the two. 

Piles* of newspapers lay scattered about the 
floor of the room in which they sat. Every one 
of them contained sensational stories of the 
prodigal's trip, with pictures, incidents and 
predictions. Monty was pained, humiliated 
and resentful, but he was honest enough to 
admit the justification of much that was said 
of him. He read bits of it here and there and 
then threw the papers aside hopelessly. In 
a few weeks they would tell another story, and 
Quite as emphatically. 

"The worst of it, Monty, is that you are the 
next thing to being a poor man ** groaned 
Gardner. "I've done my best to economize 
for you here at home, as you'll see by these 
figures, but nothing could possibly balance 
^he extravagances of this voyage. They are 
simply appalling.'* 


With the condemnation of Ais friends ringing 
in his troubled brain, with the sneers .of 
acquaintances to distress his pride, with the 
jibes of the comic papers to torture him 
remorselessly, Brewster was fast becoming the 
most miserable man in New York. Friends of 
former days gave him the cut direct, clubmen 
ignored him or scorned him openly, women 
chilled him with the iciness of unspoken 
reproof, and all the world was hung with shad- 
ows. The doggedness of despair kept him up» 
but the strain that pulled down on him was so re- 
lentless that the struggle was losing its equal'^v 
He had not expected such a home-coming. 

Compared with his former self, Monty wes 
now almost a physical wreck, haggard, thin 
and defiant, a shadow of the once debonair 
young New Yorker, an object of pity and scorn. 
Ashamed and despairing, he had almost lacked 
the courage to face Mrs. Gray. The consola- 
tion he onrc gained through her he now denied 
himself and his suffering, peculiar as it was, 
was very real. In absolute recklessness he 
gave dinner after dinner, party after party, all 
on a most lavish scale, many of his guests 
laughing at him openly while they enjoyed his 
hospitality. The real friends remonstrated, 
pleaded^ did everything within Iheir power to 


check his awful rush to poverty, but without 
success; he was not to be stopped. 

At last the furniture began to go, then the 
plate, then all the priceless bric-k-brac. Piece 
by piece it disappeared until the apartments 
were empty and he had squandered almost all 
of the 1^0,350 arising from the sales. The 
servants were paid off, the apartments relin* 
quished, and he was beginning to know what 
It meant to be *'on his uppers.** At the banks 
he ascertained that the interest on his moneys 
amounted to f 19, 140.86. A week before the 
23d of September, the whole million was gone, 
including the amounts won in Lumber and 
Fuel and other luckless enterprises. He still 
had about {17,000 of his interest money in the 
banks, but he had a billion pangs in his heart — 
the interest on his improvidence. 

He found some delight in the discovery that 
the servants had robbed him of not less than 
S3, 500 worth of his belongings, including the 
Christmas presents that he in honor could not 
have sold. His only encouragement came 
from Grant and Ripley, the lawyers. They 
inspired confidence in his lagging brain by 
urging him on to the end, promising brightness 
thereafter. Swearengen Jones was as mute as 
the mountains in wnich he lived. There wa9 


DO word from him, there was no assurance tliat 
be would approve of what had been done to 
obliterate Edwin Peter Brewster's legacy. 

Dan DeMille and his wife implored Monty to 
come with them to the mountains before his 
substance was gone completely. The former 
offered him money, emplo)rmect, rest and 
security if he would abandon the course he was 
pursuing. Up in Fortieth Street Peggy Gray 
was grieving her heart out and he knew it 
Two or three of those whom he had considered 
friends refused to recognize him in the street 
in this last trying week, and it did not even 
interest him to learn that Miss Barbara Drew 
was to become a duchess before the winter was 
gone. Yet he found some satisfaction in the 
report that one Hampton of Chicago had long 
since been dropped out of the race. 

One day he implored the faithful Bragdon to 
steal the Boston terriers. He could not and 
would not sell them and he dared not give them 
away. Bragdon dejectedly appropriated the 
dogs and Brewster announced that some day 
he would offer a reward for their return and 
"no questions asked." 

He took a suite of rooms in a small hotel 
and was feverishly planning the overthrow of 
the last torturing thousands. Bragdon lived 


with him and the "Little Sons of the Rich*^ 
stood loyally ready to help him when he 
uttered the first cry of want But even this 
establishment had to be abandoned at last. 
The old rooms in Fortieth Street were still 
open to him and though he quailed at the 
thought of making them a refuge, he faced the 
ordeal in the spirit of a martyr. 



"Monty, you are breaking my heart," was 
the first and only appeal Mrs. Gray ever made 
to aim . 1 1 was two days before the twen ty- third 
and it did not come until after the "second- 
janc btore" men had driven away from her 
door with the bulk of his clothing in their 
wagon. She and Peggy had seen little of 
Brewster, and his nervous restlessness alarmed 
them His return was the talk of the town. 
Men tried to shun him, but he persistently 
wasted some portion of his fortune on his 
unwilling subjects When he gave $^ooo in 
cash to a Home for Newsboys, even his friends 
jumped to the conclusion that he was mad. 
It was his only gift to charity and he excused 
bis motive in giving at this time by recalling 
Sedgwick's injunction to "give sparingly to 
charity." Everything was gone from hir 
thoughts but the overpowering eagerness to 
get rid of a few troublesome thousands. He 
felt like an outcast, a pariah, a hated object 
that infected everyone with whom he came in 
contact Sleep was almost impossible, eating 


was a farce; he gave elaborate suppers which 
he did not touch Already his best friends 
were discussing the advisability of putting him 
in a sanitarium where his mind might be pre- 
served. His case was looked upon as peculiar 
in the history of mankind; no writer could find 
a parallel, no one could imagine a comparison. 
Mrs. Gray met him in the hallway of her 
home as he was nervously pocketing the f6o 
he had received in payment for his clothes. 
Her face was like that of a ghost. He tried to 
answer her reproof, but the words would not 
come, and he fled to his room, locking the door 
after him. He was at work there on the 
transaction that was to record the total dis* 
appearance of Edwin Brewster's million — his 
final report to Swearengen Jones, executor of 
James Sedgwick's will. On the floor were 
bundles of packages, carefully wrapped and 
tied, and on the table was the long sheet of 
wnite paper on which the report was being 
drawn. The packages contained receipts — 
thousands upon thousands of them — for the 
dollars he had spent in less than a year. They 
were there for the inspection of Swearengen 
Jones, faithfully and honorably kept — as if 
the old westerner would go over in detail the 
countless documents. 


He had the accounts balanced up to the 
hour. On the long sheet lay the record of his 
ruthlessness, the epitaph of a million. In his 
pocket was exactly $79.08. This was to last 
him for less than forty-eight hours and— then 
it would go to join the rest. It was his plan 
to visit Grant fe'Ripley on the afternoon of the 
twenty-second and to read the report to them» 
in anticipation of the meeting with Jones on 
the day following. 

Just before noon, after his encounter with 
Mrs. Gray, he came down stairs and boldly, 
for the first time in days, sought out Peggy. 
There was the old smile in his eyes and the 
old heartiness in his voice when he came upon 
her in the library. She was not reading. 
Books, pleasures and all the joys of life had 
fled from her mind and she thought only of the 
disaster that was coming to the boy she had 
always loved. His heart smote him as he 
looked into the deep, somber, frightened eyes, 
running over with love and fear for him. 

"Peggy, do you think I'm worth anything 
more from your mother? Do you think she 
will ask me to live here any longer?" he asked, 
steadily, taking her hand in his. Hers was 
cold, his as hot as fire. "You know what )rou 
said away off yonder somewhere, that she'd 


let me live here if I deserved it. I am a pauper, 
Peggy, and I'm afraid I'll — I may have to gel^ 
down to drudgery again. Will she turn me 
out? You know I must have somewhere to 
live. Shall it be the poorhouse? Do you 
remember saying one day that I'd end in the 

She was looking into his eyes, dreading what 
might be seen in them. But there was no 
gleam of insanity there, there was no fever; 
instead there was the quiet smile of the man 
who is satisfied with himself and the world. 
His voice bore traces of emotion, but it was 
the voice of one who has perfect control of his 

"Is it all — gone, Monty?'* she asked« almost 
in a whisper. 

"Here is the residue of my estate," he said, 
opening his purse with steady fingers. "Fm 
back to where I left off a year ago. The 
million is gone and my wings are clipped." 
Her face was white, her heart was in the clutch 
of ice. How could he be so calm about it 
when for him she was suffering such agony? 
Twice she started to speak, but her voice failed 
her. She turned slowly and walked to the 
window, keeping her back to the man who 
smiled so sadly and yet so heartlessly. 


*'I didn't want the million* P^SSyt *' ^^ went 
on. "You think as the rest do, I know, that I 
was a fool to act as I did. It would be rank 
idiocy on my part to blame you any more than 
the others for thinking as you do. Appear* 
ances are against me, the proof is overwhelm* 
ing A year ago I was called a man, to-day 
they are stripping me of every claim to that 
distinction. The world says I am a fool, a 
dolt, almost a criminal — but no one believes 
I am a man. Peggy, will you feel better 
toward me if I tell you that I am going to 
begin life all over agam? It will be a new 
Monty Brewster that starts out again in a few 
days, or, if you will, it shall be the old one — 
the Montj' you once knew." 

•'The old Monty?" she murmuiad softly, 
dreamily. "It would be good to see him — so 
much better than to see the Monty of the last 

"And, in spite of all I have done, Peggy, 
you will stand by me? You won't desert me 
like the rest? You'll be the same Peggy of the 
other days?" he cried, his calmness breaking 

"How can you ask? Why should you doubt 

For a moment they stood silent, each look- 


ing into the heart of the other, each seeing the 
beginning of a new day, 

*'Child," his voice trembled dangerously, 
•*I — I wonder if you care enough for me to— 
to — *' but he could only look the question. 

*To start all over again with you?" she 

"Yes — to trust yourself to the prodigal who 
has returned. Without you, child, all the rest 
would be as the husks. Peggy, I want you — 
you! You do love me — I can see it in your 
eyes, I can feel it in your presence.'* 

"How long you have been ip realizing it,'* 
she said pensively as she stretched out her arms 
to him. For many minutes he held her close* 
finding a beautiful peace in the world again. 

"How long have you really cared?** he 
asked in a whisper. 

"Always, Monty; al! my life.'* 

"And I too, child, all my life. I know it 
now; I've known it for months. Oh, what a 
fool I was to have wasted all this love of yours 
and all this love of mine. But I'll not be a 
profligate in love, Peggy. I'll not squander 
an atom of it, dear, not as long as I live.'* 

"And we will build a greater love, Monty, as 
we build the new life together. We never can 
be poor while we have love as a treasure.** 


"You won't mind being poor with me?" &c 

"I can't be poor with you," she said simply. 

"And I might have let all this escape me," 
he cried fervently. "Listen, Peggy — we will 
start together, you as my wife and my fortune. 
You shall be all that is left to me of the past. 
Will you marry me the day after to-morrow? 
Don't say no, dearest. I want to begin on 
that day. At seven in the morning, dear? 
Don't you see how good the start will be?" 

And he pleaded so ardently and so earnestly 
that he won his point even though it grew out 
of a whim that she could not then understand 
She was not to learn until afterward his objeo. 
in having the marriage take place on the morn« 
ing of September 23d, two hours before the 
time set for the turning over of the Sedgwick 
millions. If all went well they would be 
Brewster's millions before twelve o'clock, and 
Peggy's life of poverty would cover no more 
than three hours of time. She believed him 
worth a lifetime of poverty. So they would 
start the new life with but one possession — love. 

Peggy rebelled against his desire to spend the 
seventy dollars that still remained, but he was 
firm in his determination. They would dine and 
drive together and see all of the old life that was 


left — on seventy dollars. Then on the next 
day they would start all over again. There 
was one rude moment of dismay when it 
occurred to him that Peggy might be considered 
an "asset" if she became his wife before nine 
o'clock. But he realized at once that it was 
only demanded of him that he be penniless and 
that he possess no object that had been acquired 
through the medium of Edwin Peter Brew- 
ster's money. Surely this wife who was not to 
come to him until his last dollar was gone could 
not be the product of an old man's legacy. 
But so careful was he in regard to the transac* 
tion that he decided to borrow money of Joe 
Bragdon to buy the license and to pay the 
minister's fee. Not only would he be penniless 
on the day of settlement, but he would be in 
debt. So changed was the color of the world 
to him now that even the failure to win Sedg- 
wick's millions could not crush out the new life 
and the new joy that bad come to him with 
the winning of Peggy Gray* 



Soon after noon on the 22d of September« 

Monty folded his report to Swearengen Jones, 

stuck it into his pocket and sallied forth. A 

parcel delivery wagon had carried off a 

mysterious bundle a few minutes before. 

Mrs. Gray could not conceal her wonder but 

Brewster's answers to her questions threw little 

light on the mystery. He could not tell her 

the big bundle contained the receipts that were 

to prove his sincerity when the time came to 

settle with Mr. Jones. Brewster had used his 

own form of receipt for every purchase. The 

little stub receipt books had been made to order 

for him and not only he but every person in 

his employ carried one everywhere No 

matter how trivial the purchase, the person 

who received a dollar of Brewster's money 

signed a receipt for the amount. Newsboys 

and bootblacks were the' only beings who 

escaped the formality; tips to waiters, porters, 

cabbies, etc., were recorded and afterward put 

into a class by themselves. Receipts for the 



few dollars remaining in his possession were to 
be turned over on the morning of the 23d and 
the general report was not to be completed 
until 9 o'clock on that day. 

He kissed Pegg^y good-bye, told her to be 
ready for a drive at 4 o'clock, ^nd then went 
off to find Joe Bragdon and Elon Gardner. 
They met him by appointment and to them 
he confided his design to be married on the 
following day. 

••You can't afford it, Monty/* exploded Joe, 
fearlessly. *Teggy is too good a girl. By 
gad, it isn't fair to her.*' 

•*We have agreed to begin life to-mor- 
row. Wait and see the result. I think it will 
surprise you. Incidentally it is up to me to 
get the license to-day and to engage a minister's 
services. It's going to be quiet, you know. 
Joe, you can be my best man if you like and, 
Gardie, I'll expect you to sign your name as 
one of the witnesses. To-morrow evening we'll 
have supper at Mrs. Gray's and 'among those 
present' will not comprise a very large list, I 
assure you. But we'll talk about that later on. 
Just now I want to ask you fellows to lend me 
enough money to get the license and pay the 
preacher. I'll return it to-morrow afternoon." 

**Well, I'm damned," exclaimed Gardner* 


utterly dumbfounded by the nerve of the man. 
But they went with him to get the license and 
Bragdon paid for it. Gardner promised to 
have the minister at the Gray house the next 
morning. Monty's other request — made in 
deep seriousness — was that Peggy was not to 
be told of the little transaction in which the 
license and the minister figured so prominently. 
He then hurried off to the ofBce of Grant & 
Ripley. The bundles of receipts had preceded 

"Has Jones arrived in town?" was his first 
anxious question after the greetings. 

**He is not registered at any of the hotels/* 
responded Mr. Grant, and Brewster did not 
see the troubled look that passed over his 

"He'll show up to*night, I presume," said 
he, complacently. The lawyers did not tell 
him that all the telegrams they had sent to 
Swearengen Jones in the past two weeks had 
Keen returned to the New York office as 
inclaimed in Butte. The telegraph company 
reported that Mr. Jones was not to be found 
and that he had not been seen in Butte since 
the 3d of September. The lawyers were hourly 
expecting word from Montana men to whom 
they had telegraphed for informatioo and 


advice. They were extremely nervous, but 
Montgomery Brewster was too eager and 
excited to notice the fact 

•*A tall, bearded stranger was here this 
morning asking for you, Mr. Brewster,'* said 
Ripley, his head bent over some papers on his 

"Ah! Jones, I'm sure. I've always imagined 
him with a long beard," said Monty, relief in 
his voice. 

"It was not Mr. Jones. We know Jones 
quite well. This man was a stranger and 
refused to give his name. He said he would 
call at Mrs. Gray's this afternoon." 

"Did he look like a constable or a bill- 
collector?" asked Monty, with a laugh. 

"He looked very much like a tramp.** 

"Well, we'll forget him for the time being/* 
said Monty, drawing the report from his pocket. 
''Would you mind looking over this report, 
gentlemen? I'd like to know if it is in proper 
form to present to Mr. Jones." 

Grant's hand trembled as he took the care* 
fully folded sheet from Brewster. A quick 
glance of despair passed between the two 

"Of course, you'll understand that this 
report is merely a synopsis of the expenditures. 


They are classified, however, and the receipts 
over there are arranged in such a way that Mn 
Jones can very easily verify ali the figures set 
out in the report. For instance, where it says 
'cigars,' I have put down the total amount that 
went up in smoke. The receipts are to serve 
as an itemized statement, you know/' Mr. 
Ripley took the paper from his partner's hand 
and, pulling himself together, read the report 
aloud. It was as follows: 

New York, Sept 23, 19— . 


Executor under the will of the late James 
T. Sedgwick of Montana: 

In pursuance of the terms of the aforesaid 
will and in accord with the instructions set 
forth by yourself as executor, I present my 
report of receipts and disbursements for the 
year in my life ending at midnight on Sept. 22. 
The accuracy of the figures set forth in this 
general statement may be established by refer- 
ring to the receipts, which form a part of this 
report. There is not one penny of Edwin 
Peter Brewster's money in my possession, and 
I have no asset to mark its burial place. These 
figures are submitted for your most careful 


ORIGINAL CAPITAL . $1,000,000.00 
"Lumber and Fuel* 'misfortune 58, 550.00 
Prize-fight misjudged . . . 
Monte Carlo education . . . 

Race track errors 

Sale of six terrier pups . . 

Sale of furniture and personal 

eueccs ••••••• 

Interest on funds once in hand 





40, 500.00 

Total amount to be disposed of 



Rent for apartments • • 
Furnishing apartments 
Three automobiles . . • 
Renting six automobiles • 
Amount lost to DeMille 


Amount paid to men injured 

in auto accident . . . 
Amount lost in bank failure 
Amount lost on races . • 
One glass screen • • . 
Christmas presents . • • 


Cable and telegraph . • 


Two Boston terriers • • 
Amount lost to '*hold-up men* 
Amount lost on concert tour 
Amount lost through O. Har 
rison*s speculation (on my 


One ball (in two sections) 

Extra favors 

One yacht crtdsa • • • • 
One carnival • • • . • 
Ci^rs •.*•..• 
Drinks, dilefiy for oUierfl • 
Clotbiqg o • o • o • • 











ReDt of one villa .... 

Otie oonrier 

Dinnerparties .... 
Suppers and luncheons 
Theater parties and suppers 
Hotel expenses .... 
Railway and steamship fares 
For Newsboys' Home . • 
Two opera performances • 
Repairs to '*FHtter" . . 
In tow from somewhere to 

Soutluunpton . . . 
Special train to Florida . 
Cottage in Florida . . . 
Medical attendance . . . 
Living expenses in Florida 
Misappropriation of personal 

property by servants . 
Taxes on personal property 


Household expenses . • 
















Total disbursements ... . |i,i6o,04aoo 
BALANCE ON HAND . . . $0,000,00000 

Respectfully submitted, 

Montgomery Brewster. 

"It's rather broad, you see, gentlemen, but 
there are receipts for every dollar, barring 
some trifling incidentals. He may think I 
dissipated the fortune, but I defy him or any- 
one else to prove that I have not had my 
money's worth. To tell you the truth, it has 
seemed like a hundred million. If anyone 
should tell you that it is an easy matter to 
waste a million dollars, refer him to me. Last 
fall I weighed 180 pounds^ yesterday I barely 


moved the beam at 140; last fall there was 
not a wrinkle in my face, nor did I have a 
white hair. You see the result of overwork, 
gentlemen. It will take an age to get back to 
where I was physically, but I think I can do it 
with the vacation that begins to-morrow. 
Incidentally, I'm going to be married to-morrow 
morning, just when I am poorer than I ever 
expect to be again. I still have a few dollars 
to spend and I must be about it. To-morrow I 
will account for what I spend this evening* It 
is now covered by the 'sundries' item, but I'll 
have the receipts to shew, all right. See you 
to-morrow morning/* 

He was gone, eager to be with Peggy, afraid 
to discuss his report with the lawyers. Grant 
and Ripley shook their heads and sat silent for 
a long time after his departure.. 

"We ought to hear something definite before 
night," said Grant, but there was anxiety in 
his voice. 

I wonder," mused Ripley, as if to himself, 

how he win take it if the worst should 



"If 8 all up to Jones now/* kept running 
through Brewster's brain as he drove off to 
keep his appointment with Peggy Gray. "The 
million is gone — all gone. Tm as poor as Job's 
turkey. It's up to Jones, but I don't see bow 
he can decide against me. He insisted on 
making a pauper of me and he can t have the 
heart to throw me down now. But, what if be 
should take it into his head to be ugly! I 
wonder if I could break the will— I wonder if I 
could beat him out in court" 

Peggy was waiting for him. Her cheeks 
were flushed as with a fever. She had caught 
from him the mad excitement of the occasion. 

•'Come, Peggy," he exclaimed, eagerly. 
"This is our last holiday — let's be merry. We 
can forget it to-morrow, if you like, when we 
begin all over again, but maybe it will be worth 
remembering." He assisted her to the seat 
and then leaped up beside her. "We're off!" 
he cried, his voice quivering. 

"It is absolute madness, dear," she saidi 




but her eyes were sparkling with the joy of 
recklessness. Away went the trap and the two 
light hearts. Mrs. Gray turned from a window 
in the house with tears in her eyes. To her 
troubled mind they were driving o£f into utter 

"The queerest looking man came to the 
house to see you this afternoon, Monty/* sai<!l 
Peggy. "He wore a beard and he mad? me 
think of one of Remington's cowboys." 

"What was his name?" 

"He told the maid it did not matter. I sac» 
him as he walked away and he looked ver) 
much a man. He said he would come to-mor- 
row if he did not find you down town to-night. 
Don't you r-^'^ognize him from the description?" 

"Not at all. Can't imagine who he is." 

"Monty/' she said, after a moment's pain- 
ful reflection, "he — he couldn't have been 
a "^ 

"I know what you mean. An officer sent 
up to attach my belongings or something of 
the sort. No, dearest; I give you my word of 
honor I do not owe a dollar in the world." 
Then he recalled his peculiar indebtedness to 
Bragdon and Gardner. "Except one or two 
very small persona] obligations," he added, 
hastily. "Don't worry about it« dear,: we Am 


out for a good time and we must make the 
most of it First, we drive through the Park, 
then we dine at Sherry's.** 

*'But we must dress for that, dear,*' she 
cried. "And the chaperon?'* 

He turned very red when she spoke of dress- 
ing. "Tm ashamed to confess it, Peggy, but I 
have no other clothes than these I'm wearing 
now. Don*t look so hurt, dear — Fm going to 
leave an order for new evening clothes to-mor- 
row — if I have the time. And about the 
■chaperon. People won't be talking before 
to-morrow and by that time " 

"No, Monty, Sherry's is out of the question. 
We can't go there," she said, decisively. 

"Oh, Peggy! That spoils everything," he 
<:ried, in deep disappointment. 

"It isn't fail: to me, Monty. Everybody 
would know us and every tongue would wag. 
They would say, There are Monty Brewster and 
Margaret Gray. Spending his last few dollars 
t)n her.* You wouldn't have them think 

He saw the justice in her protest. "A quiet 
iittle dinner in some out of the way place would 
be joyous," she added, persuasively. 

"You're right, Peggy, you're always right. 
ITou see, I'm so used to spending money by 



tlie handful that I don't know how to do it 
any other way. I believe I'll let you carry 
the pocketbook after to-morrow. Let me 
think; I know a nice little restaurant down 
town. We'll go there and then to the theater, 
Dan DeMille and his wife are to be in my box 
and we're all going up to Pettingill's studio 
afterward. I'm to give the 'Little Sons' a fare* 
well supper. If my calculations don't go 
wrong, that will be the end of the jaunt and 
we'll go home happy." 

At eleven o'clock Pettingill's studio opened 
its doors to the * 'Little Sons" and their guests, 
and the last "Dutch lunch" was soon \inder 
way. Brewster had paid for it early in the 
evening and when he sat down at the head of 
the table there was not a penny in his pockets. 
A year ago, at the same place and at the same 
hour, he and the "Little Sons" were having a 
birthday feast, A million dollars came to him 
>n that night. To-night he was poorer by far 
than on the other occasion, but he expected a 
little gift on the new anniversary. 

Around the board, besides the nine ''Little 
Sons," sat six guests, among them theDeMilles, 
Peggy Gray and Mary Valentine. "Nopper" 
Harrison was the only absent "Little Son" and 
his health was proposed by Brewster almost 


before the echoes of the toast to the bride and 
groom died away. 

Interruption came earlier on this occasion 
than it did that night a year ago. Ellis did 
not deliver his messages to Brewster until three 
o'clock in the morning, but the A.D.T. boy 
who rang the bell at PettingilKs a year later 
handed him a telegram before twelve o'clock. 

"Congratulations are coming in, old man/' 
said DeMille, as Monty looked fearfully at the 
little envelope the boy had given him. 

**Many happy returns of the day," suggested 
Bragdon. "By Jove, it's sensible of you to 
get married on your birthday, Monty. It saves 
time and expense to your friends.* 

"Read it aloud," said "Subwa/' Smith. 

"Two to one it's from Nopper Harrison," 
cried Pettingill. 

Brewster's fingers trembled, he knew not 
why, as he opened the envelope. There was 
the most desolate feeling in his heart, the most 
ghastly premonition that ill-news had come in 
this last hour. He drew forth the telegram and 
slowly painfully unfolded it. No one could 
have told by his expression that he felt almost 
that he was reading his death warrant. It was 
from Grant & Ripley and evidently had been 
following him about town for two or three 


hoi/^s. The lawyers had filed it at 8:30 

He read it at a glance, his eyes burning, nis, 
heart freezing. To the end of his days these 
words lived sharp and distinct in his brain, 

"Come to the office immediately. Will wait 
all night for you if necessary. Jones has dis* 
appeared and there is absolutely no trace of 
him. Grant & Ripley." 

Brewster sat as one paralyzed, absolutely no 
sign of emotion in his face. The others began 
to clamor for the contents of the telegram, but 
his tongue was stiff and motionless, his ears 
deaf. Every drop of blood in his body was 
stilled by the shock, every sense given him by 
the Creator was centered upon eleven words in 
the handwriting of a careless telegraph 
operator — "Jones has disappeared and there 
is absolutely no trace of him.** 

were the words, plain and terrible in their 
clearness, tremendous in their brutality. 
Slowly the rest of the message began to urge 
its claims upon his brain. "Come to our office 
immediately** and "Will wait all night** battled 
for recognition. He was calm because he had 
oot the power to express ao emotioiic How be 


maintained control of himself afterwaii he 
never knew. SoUie powerful, kindly fc^ce 
asserted itself, coming to his relief with tL^* 
timeliness of a genii. Gradually it b^an to 
dawn upon him that the others were waiting 
for him to read the message aloud. He was 
not sure that a sound would come forth wher 
he opened his lips to speak, but the tones were 
steady, natural and as cold as steel. 

**l am sorry I can't tell you 2d>out this," he 
said, so gravely that his hearers were silenced. 
**It is a business matter of such vital impor- 
tance that I must ask you to excuse me for an 
hour or so. I will explain everything to-mor- 
row. Please don't be uneasy. If you will do 
me the honor to grace the board of an absent 
host, rU be most grateful. It is imperative, 
that I go, and at once. I promise to return in 
an hour." He was standing, his knees as stiff 

as iron. 

Is it anything serious?'* asked DeMille. 

"What! has anything happened?" came in 
halting, frightened tones from Peggy. 

"It concerns me alone, and it is purely of a 
business nature. Seriously, I can't delay going 
for another minute. It is vital. In an hour 
ril return. Peggy, don't be worried — don't 
be distressed about me. Go on and have a 


good time, everybody, and you'll find me the 
joUiest fellow of all when I come back. It*s 
twelve o'clock. I'll be here by one on the 23d 
of September." 

"Let me go with you," pleaded Peggy, trem- 
ulously, as she followed him into the hallway. 

"I must go alone," he answered. "Don't 
worry, little woman, it will be all right." 

His kiss sent a chill to the very bottom of 
Peggy's heart. 



Eveiything seemed like a dream to Brewster 
as he rushed off through the night to the office 
of Grant & Ripley. He was dazed, bewildered, 
hardly more than half-conscious. A bitter 
smile crept about his lips as he drew away 
from the street-car track almost as his hand 
touched the rail of a car he had signaled. He 
remembered that he did not have money 
enougH to pay his fare. It was six or seven 
blocks to the office of the lawyers, and he was 
actually running before he stopped at the 
entrance of the big building. 

Never had an elevator traveled more slowly 
than the one which shot him to the seventh 
floor. A light shone through the transom 
above the attorneys* door and he entered with- 
out so much as a rap on the panel. Grant, who 
was pacing the floor, came to a standstill and 
faced his visitor. 

"Close the door, please,** came in steady 
tones from Ripley. Mr. Grant dropped into 
a chair and Brewster mechanically slammed 
the door. 

j Disappeared r 


"Is it true?" he demanded hoarsely, his 
hand still on the knob. 

•'Sit down, Brewster, and control yourself," 
said Ripley. 

"Good God, man, can't you see I am calm?" 
cried Monty. "Go on — tell me all about it 
What do you know? What have you heard?" 

"He cannot be found, that's all," announced 
Ripley, with deadly intentness. "I don't 
know what it means. There is no explanation. 
The whole thing is inconceivable. Sit down 
and I will tell you everything as quickly as 
possible. " 

"There isn't much to tell/* said Grant, 

"I can take it better standing," declared 
Brewster, shutting his jaws tightly. 

"Jones was last seen in Butte on the third of 
this month," said Ripley. "We sent several 
telegrams to him after that day, asking when 
he expected to leave for New York. They 
never were claimed and the telegraph company 
reported that he could not be found. We 
thought he might have gone off to look after 
some of his property and were not uneasy. ' 
Finally we began to wonder why he had not 
wired us on leaving for the east. I tele« 
graphed again and got no answer. It dawned 



upon us that this was something unusual. W e 
wired his secretary and received a response 
from the chief of police. He asked, in turn, 
if we could tell him anything about the where- 
abouts of Jones. This naturally alarmed us 
and yesterday we kept the wires hot The 
result of our inquiries is terrible, Mr. Brewster. " 

**Why didn't you tell me?" asked Brewster. 

''There can be no doubt that Jones has fled, 
accompanied by his secretary. The belief in 
Butte is that the secretary has murdered him." 

"God!" was the only sound that came from 
the lips of Brewster. 

Ripley moistened his lips and went on. 

"We have dispatches here from the police, 
the banks, the trust companies and from a half 
dozen mine managers. You may read them 
if you like, but I can tell you what they say. 
About the first of this month Jones began to 
turn various securities into money. It is now 
known that they were once the property of 
James T. Sedgwick, held in trust for you. The 
safety deposit vaults were afterward visited and 
inspection shows that he removed every scrap 
of stock, every bond, everything of value 
that he could lay his hands upon. His own 
papers and effects were not disturbed. Yours 
alone have disappeared. It is this fact that 


convinces the authorities that the secretary 
has made away with the old man and has fled 
with the property. The bank people say that 
Jones drew out every dollar of the Sedgwick 
money, and the police say that he realized 
tremendous sums on the convertible securities. 
The strange part of it is that he sold your 
mines and your real estate, the purchaser being 
a man named Golden. Brewster, it — it looks 
very much as if he had disappeared with every- 

Brewster did not take his eyes from Ripley's 
face throughout the terrible speech; he did 
not move a fraction of an inch from the rigid 
position assumed at the beginning. 

**Is anything being done?'' he askedf 

"The police are investigating. He is knowa 
to have started off into the mountains with this 
secretary, on the third of September. Neither 
has been seen since that day, so far as anyone 
knows. The earth seems to have swallowed 
them. The authorities are searching the 
mountains and are making every effort to find 
Jones or his body. He is known to be eccentric 
and at first not much importance was attached 
to his actions. That is all we can tell you at 
present. There may be developments to* 


morrow. It looks bad — terribly bad. W4 
we had the utmost confidence in Jones. My 
God, I wish I could help you, my boy." 

"I don't blame you, gentlemen," said Brew- 
ster, bravely. "It's just my luck, that's all. 
Something toM me all along that — that it 
wouldn't turn out right. I wasn't looking for 
this kind of end, though. My only fear was 
that — ^Jones wouldn't consider me worthy to 
receive the fortune. It never occurred to me 
that he might prove to be the — the ^mworthy 


"I will take you a little farther int our con 
fidence, Brewster," said Grant, slowly. "Mr. 
Jones notified us in the beginning that he would 
be governed largely in his decision by our 
.opinion of your conduct. That is why we felt 
no hesitation in advising you to continue as 
you were going. While you were off at sea, 
we had many letters from him, all in that 
sarcastic vein of his, but in none of them did 
he offer a word of criticism. He seemed 
thoroughly satisfied with your methods. In 
fact, he once said he'd give a million of his own 
money if it would purchase your ability to 
spend one-fourth of it." 

"Well, he can have my experience free of 
charge. A beggar can't be a chooser, you 

1 1 


know/* said Brewster, bitterly. His color was 
gradually coming back. **What do they know 
about the secretary?" he asked, suddenly, 
intent and alive. 

"He was a new one, I understand, who came 
to Jones less than a year ago. Jones is said to 
have had implicit faith in him," said Ripley. 
'And he disappeared at the same time?" 
'They were last seen together." 

''Then, he has put an end to Jones!" cried 
Monty, excitedly. "It is as plain as day to 
me. Don't you see that he exerted some sort 
of influence over the old man, inducing him to 
get all this money together on some pretext or 
other, solely for the purpose of robbing him of 
the whole amount? Was ever anything more^ 
diabolical?" He began pacing the floor like 
an animal, nervously clasping and unclasping 
his hands. "We must catch that secretary! I 
don't believe Jones was dishonest. He has 
been duped by a clever scoundrel." 

"The strangest circumstance of aii, Mr. 
Brewster, is that no such person as Golden, the 
purchaser of your properties, can be found. 
He is supposed to reside in Omaha, and it is 
known that he paid nearly three million dol- 
lars for the property that now stands in his 
name. He paid it to Mr. Jones in cash, too^ 


and he paid every cent that the property is 

"But he must be in existence somewhere," 
cried Brewster, in perplexity. "How the devi! 
could he pay the money if he doesn't exist?" 

"I only know that no trace of the man can be 
found. They know nothing of him in Omaha," 
said Grant, helplessly. 

"So it has finally happened," said Brewster, 
but his excitement had dropped. "Well," he 
added, throwing himself into a deep chair, "it 
was always much too strange to be true. Even 
at the beginning it seemed like a dream, and 
now — well, now I am just awake, like the little 
boy after the fairy-tale. I seem like a fool 
to have taken it so seriously." 

"There was no other way,'^ protested 
Ripley, "you were quite right." 

"Well, after all," continued Brewster, and 
the voice was as of one in a dream, "perhaps 
\t's as well to have been in Wonderland even if 
Vou have to come down afterward to the 
ordinary world. I am foolish, perhaps, but 
even now I would not give it up." Then the 
thought of Peggy clutched him by the throat, 
and he stopp%l. After a moment he gathered 
himself together and rose. "Gentlemen," he 
said sharply, and his voice had changed; "I 


have had my fun and this is the end of it. 
Down underneath I am desperately tired of 
the whole thing, and I give you my word that 
you will find me a different man to-morrow. 
I am going to buckle down to the real thing. 
I am going to prove that my grandfather's 
blood is in me. And I shall come out on top." 

Ripley was obviously moved as he replied, 
*'I don't question it for a moment. You are 
made of the right stuff. I saw that long ago. 
You may count on us to-morrow for any amount 
you need." 

Grant endorsed the opinion. **I like your 
spirit, Brewster," he said. * 'There are not 
many men who would have taken this as well. 
It's pretty hard on you, too, and it's a miserabi>ji 
wedding gift for your bride." 

"We may have important news from ButtC' 
in the morning," said Ripley, hopefully; "at 
any rate, more of the details. The newspapers 
will have sensational stories no doubt, and we 
have asked for the latest particulars direct from 
the authorities. We'll see that things are 
properly investigated. Go home now, my boy, 
and go to bed. You will begin to-morrow with 
good luck at your side and you may be happy 
all your life in spite of to-night's depression." 

"I'm sure to be happy," said Brewster, 


simply. "The ceremony takes place at seven 
o'clock, gentlemen. I was coming to your 
office at nine on a little matter of business, but 
I fancy it won't after all be necessary for me 
to hurry. Til drop in before noon, however, 
and get that money. By the way, here are the 
receipts for the money I spent to-night. Will 
you put them away with the others? I intend 
to live up to my part of the contract, and it will 
save me the trouble of presenting them 
regularly in the morning. Good night, gentle- 
men. I am sorry you were obliged to stay up 
so late on my account." 

He left them bravely enough, but he had 
more than one moment of weakness before he 
could meet his friends. The world seemed 
unreal and himself the most unreal thing in it. 
But the night air acted as a stimulant and 
helped him to call back his courage. When he 
entered the studio at one o'clock, he was pre- 
pared to redeem his promise to be "the iolliest 
fellow of them all*' 



'•1*11 tell you about it later, dear/' was all 
that Peggy, pleading, could draw from him. 

At midnight Mrs. Dan had remonstrated with 
her. "You must go home, Peggy dear," she 
said, "It is disgraceful for you to stay up so 
late. I went to bed at eight o'clock the night 
before I was married." 

"And fell asleep at four in the morning," 
smiled Peggy. 

"You are quite mistaken, my dear. I did 
not fall asleep at all. But I won't allow you 
to stop a minute longer. It puts rings under 
the eyes and sometimes they're red the morning 

"Ohf you dear sweet philosopher," cried 
Peggy; "how wise you are. Do you think I 
Sieed a beauty sleep?" 

"I don't want you to be a sleepy beauty, 
that's all," retorted Mrs. Dan. 

Upon Monty's return from his trying hour 
with the lawyers, he had been besieged with 
questions, but he was cleverly evasive. Peggy 


alone was insistent; she had curbed her curi- 
osity until they were on the way home, and 
then she implored him to tell her what had 
happened. The misery he had endured was as 
nothing to this reckoning with the woman who 
had the right to expect fair treatment. His 
duty was clear, but the strain had been heavy 
and it was not easy to meet it. 

** Peggy, something terrible has happened/* 
he faltered, uncertain of his course. 

*Tell me everything, Monty, you can trust 
me to be brave." 

**When I asked you to marry me," he con- 
tinued gravely, "it was with the thought that I 
could give you everything to-morrow. I looked 
for a fortune. I never meant that you should 
marry a pauper." 

"I don't understand. You tried to test my 
love for you?'* 

"No, child, not that. But I was pledged 
not to speak of the money I expected, and I 
wanted you so much before it came." 

"And it has failed you?" she answered. "I 
can't see that it changes things. I expected 
to marry a pauper, as you call it Do you 
think this could make a difference?" 

"But you don't understand, Peggy. ] 
haven't a penny in the world.*' 


"You hadn't a penny when I accepted you," 
she replied. "I am not afraid. I believe in 
you. And if you love me I shall not give you 

"Dearest!" and the carriage was at the door 
before another word was uttered. But Monty 
called to the coachman to drive just once 
around the block. 

"'Good night, my darling," he said when 
they reached home. * 'Sleep till eight o'clock 
if you like. There is nothing now in the way 
of having the wedding at nine, instead of at 
seven. In fact, I have a reason for wanting 
my whole fortune to come to me then. You 
will be all that I have in the world, child, but 
I am the happiest man alive." 

In his room the strain was relaxed and Brew- 
ster faced the bitter reality. Without undress- 
ing he threw himself upon the lounge and 
wondered what the world held for him. It 
held Peggy at least, he thought, and she was 
enough. But had he been fair to her? Was 
he right in exacting a sacrifice? His tired 
brain whirled in the effort to decide. Only 
one thing was clear— that he could not give 
her up. The future grew black at the very 
thought of it. With her he could make things 
gOt but alone it was another matter. H^ 


would take the plunge and he would justify it. 
His mind went traveling back over the grace- 
less year, and he suddenly realized that he had 
forfeited the confidence of men who were 
worth while. His course in profligacy would 
not be considered the best training for business. 
The thought nerved him to action. He must 
make good. Peggy had faith in him. She 
came to him when eveiything was against him, 
and he would slave for her, he would starve, he 
would do anything to prove that she was not 
mistaken in him. She at least should know 
him for a man. 

Looking toward the window he saw the 
black, uneasy night give way to the coming 
day. Haggard and faint he arose from the 
couch to watch the approach of the sun that is 
indifferent to wealth and poverty, to gayety 
and dejection. From far off in the gray light 
there came the sound of a five o'clock bell. A 
little later the shrieks of factory whistles were 
borne to his ears, muffled by distance but 
pregnant with the importance of a new day of 
toiL They were calling him, with all poor 
men, to the sweat-shop and the forge, to the 
great mill of life. The new era had begun, 
dawning bright and clear to disperse the gloom 
in his soul. Leaning against the casement and 


wondering where he could earn the first dollar 
for the Peggy Brewster that was Peggy Gray, 
he rose to meet it with a fine unflinching 

Before seven o'clock he was down stairs 
and waiting. Joe Bragdon joined him a bit 
later, followed by Gardner and the minister. 
The DeMilles appeared without an invitation, 
but they were not denied. Mrs. Dan' sagely 
shook her head when told that Peggy was still 
asleep and that the ceremony was off till nine 

•'Monty, are you going away?'* asked Dan, 
drawing him into a corner. 

"Just a week in the hills," answered Monty, 
suddenly remembering the generosity of his 

"Come in and see me as soon as you return, 
old man," said DeMille, and Monty knew that 
a position would be open to him. 

To Mrs. Dan fell the honor of helping P^ggy 
dress. By the time she had had coffee and was 
ready to go down, she was pink with excite- 
ment and had quite forgotten the anxiety 
which had made the night an age. 

She had never been prettier than on her 
wedding morning. Her color was rich, her 
eyes as clear as stars, her woman's body the 


picture of grace and health. Monty's heart 
leaped high with love of hen 

*'The prettiest girl in New York, by Jove/' 
gasped Dan DeMille, clutching Bragdon by 
the arm. 

*'And look at Monty! He's become a new 
man in the last five minutes/' added Joe. 
Look at the glow in his cheeks! By the 
eternal, he's beginning to look as he did a 
year ago/* 

A clock chimed the hour of nine. 

**The man who was here yesterday is in the 
Hall to see Mr. Brewster/' said the maid, a few 
minutes after the minister had uttered the 
Mrords that gave Peggy a new name. There was 
I moment of silence, almost of dread. 

*'You mean the fellow with the beard?" 
asked Monty, uneasily, 

"Yes, sir. He sent in this letter, begging 
you to read it at once. 

*'Shall I send him away, Monty?" demanded 
Bragdon, defiantly. "What does he mean by 
coming at this time?" 

•'I'll read the letter first, Joe/' 

Every eye was on Brewster as he tore open 
the envelope. His face was expressive. 
There was wonder in it, then incredulity, then 


py. He threw the letter to Bragdon, clasped 
Peggy in his arms spasmodically, and then, 
releasing her, dashed for the hall like one 
bereft of reason. 

"It's Nopper Harrison!" he cried, and a 
moment later the tall visitor was dragged into 
the circle. **Nopper" was quite overcome by 
the heartiness of hi*' -velcome, 

**You are an angel* Nopper, God bless you!'* 
said Monty, with convincing emphasis. *'Joe» 
read that letter aloud and then advertize for 
the return of those Boston terriers!" 

Bragdon's hands trembled and his voice was 
not sure as he translated the scrawl, ** Nopper'* 
Harrison standing behind him for the gleeful 
purpose of prompting him when the writing 
was beyond the range of human intelligence 

•'Holland House, Sept. 23* 19— 
•'Mr. Montgomery Brewster, 
"My Dear Boy: 
"So you thought I had given you the slip, eh? 
Didn't think I'd show up here and do my 
part? Well, I don't blame you; I suppose I've 
acted like a damned idiot, but so long as it 
turns out O.K. there's no harm done. The 
wolf won't gnaw very much of a hole in your 
dooft I reckon. This Utter introduces my 



tecretary, Mr. Oliver Harrison. He came to 
me last June, out in Butte, with the prospectus 
of a claim he had staked out up in the 
mountains. What he wanted was backing and 
he had such a good show to win out that I 
went into cahoots with him. He's got a mine 
up there that is dead sure to yield millions. 
Seems as though he has to give you half of 
the yield, though. Says you grub-staked him. 
Good lellow, this Harrison. Needed a secretary 
and man of affairs, so took him into my ofEce. 
You can see that he did not take me up into 
the mountains to murder me, as the papers say 
this morning. Damned rot. Nobody's busi- 
ness but my own if I concluded to come east 
without telling everybody in Butte about it. 

"I am here and so is the money. Got in last 
night. Harrison came from Chicago ^ day 
ahead of me. I went to office of G. & R. at 
eight this morning. Found them in a hell of 
a stew. Thought I'd skipped out or been 
murdered. Money all gone, everything gone 
to smash. That's what they thought Don't 
blame 'em much. You see it was this way: I 
concluded to follow out the terms of the will 
and deliver the goods in person. I got 
together all of Jim Sedgwick's stuff and did a 
lot of other fool tt ings, I suppose, and hiked 


otr to New York. You'll find about seven 
million dollars' worth of stuff to your credit 
when you endorse the certified checks down at 
Grant & Ripley's, my boy. It's all here and 
in the banks. 

"It's a mighty decent sort of wedding gift, I 

**The lawyers told me all about you. Told 
me all about last night, and that you were 
going to be married this morning. By this 
time you're comparatively happy with the 
bride, I guess. I looked over your report and 
took a few peeps at the receipts. They're all 
right. I'm satisfied. The money is yours^ 
Then I got fo thinking that maybe you wouldn';* 
care to come down at nine o'clock, especiallj 
as you are just recovering from the joy of being 
married, so I settled with the lawyers and 
they'll settle with you. If you have nothing in 
particular to do this afternoon about two 
o'clock, I'd suggest that you come to the hotel 
and we'll dispose of a few formalities that the 
law requires of us. And you can give me some 
lessons in spending money. I've got a little 
I'd like to miss some morning. As for your 
ability as a business man, I have this to say: 
Any man who can ^pend a million a year and 
have nothing to show for it, don't need a 


recommendation from anybody. He's in a 
class by himself and it's a business that no one 
else can give him a pointer about The best 
test of your real capacity, my boy, is the way 
you listed your property for taxation. It's a 
true sign of business sagacity. That would 
have decided me in your favor if everything 
else had been against you. 

"I'm sorry you've been worried about all 
this. You have gone through a good deal in a 
year and you have been roasted from Hades to 
breakfast by everybody. Now it's your turn 
to laugh. It will surprise them to read the 
"extras" to-day. I've done my duty to you 
in more ways than one. I've got myself 
interviewed by the newspapers and to-day 
they'll print the whole truth about Mont- 
gomery Brewster and his millions. They've 
got the Sedgwick will and my story and the 
old town will boil with excitement. I guess 
you'll be squared before the world, all right. 
You'd better stay indoors for awhile though, 
if you want to have a quiet honeymoon. 

**I don't like New York. Never did. rim 
going back to Butte to-night. Out there we 
have real sky-scrapers and they are not built 
of brick. They are two or three miles high and 
they have gold in 'em. There is real grass in 


the lowlands and we have valleys that make 
Central Park look like a half an inch of noth- 
ing. Probably you and Mrs. Brewster were • 
going to take a wedding trip, so why not go 
west with me in my car? We start at 7:45 P.M. 
and I won't bother you. Then you can take it 
anywhere you like. 

•^Sincerely yours, 


•*P.S. I forgot to say there is no such man as 
Golden. I bought yotjr mines and ranches 
with my own money. You may buy them back 
at the same figures. I'd advise you to do it. 
They'll be worth twice as much in a year. I 
hope you'll forgive the whims of an old man 
who has liked you from the start J." 



The following books are large 121x10 Tolumes sH^^/4 inches in 
nze, are printed en laid paper of the highest grade, and bound in cloth, 
with elaborate decoratire coren. The]r are in erery respect beautiful 

UNCLE TOM'S CABIN— By Harriet Bcecher Stowe. 

A new edition, printed from entirely new plates, on fine laid paper 
of extra quality, with half-tone illustrations by Louis Betts. 


A new edition of Bunyan*8 Immortal allegory, printed from new 
plates on fine laid paper, with illustrations by H. M. Brock. 

THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD— By Susan Warner. 

Printed fi'om entirely new plates, on fine laid paper of superior 
quality, and illustrated with numerous drawings by Fred Pegram. 

THE LITTLE MINISTER (Maude Adams Edidon) 
— By J. M. Barrie. 

Printed on fine laid papo", large 1 2mo in size, with new cover de- 
sign in gold, and eight full-page half tone illustrations firom the play. 

PROSE TALES— By Edgar Allan Poe. 

A large iimo volume, bound in cloth, with decoradre cover. 
Containing eleven striking drawings by Alice B. Woodward, a biog- 
raphy of the author, a bibliography of the Tales, and comprehensive 
notes. The best edition ever published in a single volume. 

ISHMAEL > By Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth. 

SELF- RAISED 3 "^^^ *^^ ^°^'* ^^ * ^*' ^®'> ^^ ^^^^^ separatclf. 
Handsome new editions of these two old ^vorites, with illustrations 
by Clare Angell. 

THE FIRST VIOLIN— By Jesae Fothergill. 

A fine edition of this popular musical novel, with illustrations by 
Clare Angell. 






A large i2mo volume, about 5^x8^ inches in size, 
bound in cloth, with decorative cover of floral design^ 
and colored tops. Printed on fine smooth wove paper A 
excellent quality, and embellished with over two hundred 
and fifty drawings, initial letters, head and tail pieces, etc., 
by some of the best American Artists, among whom are 
Henry Sandham, George Wharton Edwards, W. H. 
Drake, Harry Fenn, and Wm. Hamilton Gibson. Un- 
doubtedly the most elaborate and expensively printed 
edition of this greatest novel of modem times yet offered 
at a moderate price. 

Price, Boxed, One Dollar. 

THE SAME, in three quarter Crushed Morocco, gold 
tops and silk head bands. 

Price, Boxed, Two Dollars and Fifty Cents. 

THE SAME, Two Volume Edition, beautifully bound 
in crimson cloth, with colored tops, and a fac-simOe oi 
John Ridd's coat of arms in ink and gold on the covers. 
Enclosed in a flat box. 

Price Two Dollars Per Set. ' 

THE SAME, Two Volume Edition, in three-quarter 
Crushed Morocco, with gold tops and silk head bandb. 
Encased in a flat box. 

Price Five Dollars Per Set. 

Sent post-paid, on receipt of price by the Publishers, 



No Field Collection is Complete 
Without this Book 



Compiled and edited by Joseph G. Brown, formerly 
city editor of the Denver Tribune ^ and an intimate friend 
and asiodate of the poet during the several years in which 
he was on the staff* of that paper. 

This volume resurrects a literary treasure which has 
been buried for many years in the forgotten files of a 
newspaper, and it is, as nearly as it has been possible to 
make, an absolutely complete collection of the hitherto 
nnpublished poems of the gifted author. 

These poems are the early product of Field's genius. 
They breathe the spirit of Western life of twenty years ago. 
The reckless cowboy, the bucking broncho, the hardy 
miner, the English tenderfoot, the coquettish belle, and all 
the foibles and extravagances of Western social life, are de- 
picted with a naivete and satire, tempered with sym* 
pathy and pathos, which no other writer could imitate. 

The book contains nearly three hundred pages, in- 
cluding an interesting and valuable introduction by the 
editor, and is printed from new type on fine deckle edge 
paper, and handsomely bound in cloth, vrith gilt tops. 

Retail price^ 75 cents 




The Pleasures of Literature 
and the Solace of Books 


A volume that will appeal to every book lover, pre* 
sentingy as it does, in chaste and elegant style, the 
thoughts of great men of all ages on books and the read* 
ing rjereof. 

A particularly dainty and appropriate gift for the 
reader or student, and one that is sure to be appreciated. 

Printed on the finest deckle edge paper and bound in 
the best silk finished cloth ^ with frontispiece and rubricated 
title page. Elaborate cover design in gold. Price ^ $1.00 

Mrs. Jerningham's Journal 
John Jerningham's Journal 

I The re-publicadon of this exquisite love story in verse 
is an event that will be heardly welcomed by those who 
can appreciate beauty of sendment when presented io 
an unusual guise. No book is so appropriate for a dainty 
and inexpensive wedding gift. 

Two volumes^ small i2mo in size^ printed en the highesi 
grade deckle edge paper and bound in light green cloth with 
ivory and green decorations. Encased in a fiat box. 

Price J $r,^0 per set, postpaid, 

GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publisher* 

52 Duane Street ' NEW YORK